


Love Me Anyway

by logans_girl2001



Series: Wild Hearts Can't Be Broken [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:40:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 72,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26543065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/logans_girl2001/pseuds/logans_girl2001
Summary: Having finally accepted that Stiles is his Mate, Derek thinks things will settle down. But life has never been easy for Derek and this time it comes for him through Stiles.
Relationships: Cora Hale & Derek Hale, Derek Hale & Lydia Martin, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski & Stiles Stilinski
Series: Wild Hearts Can't Be Broken [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1805245
Comments: 1
Kudos: 47





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone is alive, except for Aiden because I prefer Lydia with Parrish and didn't want Aiden to be the only one single.
> 
> This diverges from canon shortly after The Dread Doctors storyline.
> 
> The first three parts are complete and the fourth is almost finished so we're back to posting every week.

**Twenty months later**

There's someone in my house. No, not someone, _Stiles_ is in my house. I'm still inside the treeline on the other side of the backyard, right where I came to a stop when I caught his scent. 

The beast starts dancing in excitement because our Mate has sought us out in our den. I viciously shove the beast down and remind him that Stiles is still a pup and as such is much too young for us; not that the beast cares.

With a sigh, I cross the yard and throw open the kitchen door, startling the teenager sitting on top of the island in the middle of the kitchen eating a bowl of cereal.

"What're you doing here, Stiles?" I don't even have the energy to be angry. After a night spent tossing and turning, I went for a run this morning to try and make myself tired enough to sleep the day away. And it worked.

Until I came home to find Stiles Stilinski sitting in my kitchen.

"Eating cereal," he says, tipping the bowl as if he was drinking from a cup, and slurping the milk, his heels thudding against the wood base with each kick of his feet.

"Not what I meant and you know it." A few more steps inside and I nearly trip over a pile of bags sitting near the door.

"I don't fucking think so!" I grab the bags with both hands and stomp off through the house to where my car is parked and toss them in the trunk.

The beast is urging me to let him stay. Reminding me that he's our Mate so we should just let him stay. But I can't. He's not worth the risk of jail. I refuse to be like Kate.

"Hey!" Stiles runs along behind me. 

When I hesitate before sliding behind the wheel, trying to decide if I should take the time to change out of my jogging shorts and shoes, Stiles catches up to me. The look I toss over my shoulder at him has him scrambling to get behind the wheel of his Jeep so that he can attempt to keep pace with me as I speed toward town.

I screech to a halt outside the sheriff's house, stalk around the car, and start throwing his bags on the sidewalk

"Derek!" He catches one bag, then drops it so he can grab at my arm doing his best to get me to stop. "Stop. Derek!"

"You're lucky it was only four bags." Movement on the porch behind him has me glancing over his head.

The commotion has obviously caught his father's attention and brought him out to see what's going on. Stilinski's presence distracts me enough for Stiles to be able to grab hold of my arm. "Derek, please."

I step closer and, keeping my voice low and even, say, "I have never given you an ounce of encouragement. So I don't know why you thought I'd be okay with you just moving yourself into my house without my knowledge. Not to mention, I will not go to jail because you have a fucking crush!" 

He licks his lips and I follow his tongue with my eyes.

"It's not like that!" Tears gather in his eyes, and now I feel bad for yelling at him. But not bad enough to let him move into my house and risk going to jail.

"Then what is it like, Stiles? Huh? Tell me."

He blinks, shaking his head, at a loss for words.

"Stiles?" Stilinski calls. "Everything alright?"

I glance up at him again. He's leaning against the porch post and despite how casual he looks, I know it's anything but and he's ready to pounce should Stiles indicate that he's anything other than just fine.

"Yeah, Dad. Everything's just fine." He waves one hand in his father's direction.

"Derek, please." His voice is soft and low and I can hear how hard he's fighting to not cry. The look in his eyes has the beast demanding I pick up his bags and carry them, and him, back to my house.

"No." I'm not sure if that's for Stiles or the beast but either way, I refuse to risk jail time just to humor some kid who fancies himself in love with me. "If he kicked you out, go to Scott's."

"He didn't kick me out. And we didn't have a fight, either."

"Then what? I'm about done with waiting for an answer and let me tell you that you are not worth jail. No minor is."

"Not underage, Derek," he mutters, his jaw clenched tight.

"I'm sorry. I didn't catch that."

He sighs and looks up at me through his lashes. "Not underage anymore. Today's my eighteenth birthday."

"And what?" I spread my arms and take a step back. "You thought you'd celebrate by moving yourself into my house?"

"Shouldn't the Pack live together?"

"How do you think they were able to kill my entire family?" I glance up at where Stilinski's still leaning on the porch post. Turning back to Stiles, I point my finger in his face. "Do not try this again. Because I will just bring you right back here. Am I clear?"

He shoves his hands in his pockets and stares at the ground. A growl is building when he nods his head. "Yeah, crystal."

"Sheriff." Stilinski and I share a nod.

I get back in my car and head home, confident that Stiles has learned his lesson.

Except that he hasn't.

Every morning for the next two weeks, we act out the same scene: he shows up at my house (he starts showing up before I get dressed for my run), I cart him back to his father's house, toss his bags on the sidewalk, and drive off.

On the morning of the fifteenth day, Stilinski is waiting for us when we arrive. He's leaning against the porch post, sipping coffee. Piled around him are cardboard moving boxes with 'Stiles' Room' written in black Sharpie. 

How in the world was he able to pack up Stiles' room in the short amount of time between Stiles heading for my house and my returning him here?

I drop the bags I'm carrying at the bottom of the stairs leading to the porch just as Stiles skids to a halt at my side, one hand coming up to grab my shoulder for balance. "Dad?" I can hear the shock in his voice and it mirrors my own.

Up til now, I thought this was just some game that the three of us had been playing: Stiles stubbornly refusing to give up moving into my house, me refusing to let him, and his dad laughingly accepting him back.

"Wha-what's all this? Dad?"

Stilinski takes a sip of his coffee, shifts his position a little as if getting more comfortable, and shrugs. "I'm tired of you two putting on a show for the neighbors every morning. I'm the sheriff, in case you forgot, Stiles. I can't have you causing a disturbance every single day. So I figured you might as well actually go ahead and move out."

I take one step closer. "You do realize that I never asked him to move in with me, right?"

"Didn't say he had to move in with you. I've spoken to Melissa and she's willing to let him move in there. He practically lived there when they were kids, so." He shrugs again.

"Dad?" Stiles is obviously having difficulty getting over what he sees as a betrayal by his father, even though he has been 'attempting' to move out for two weeks now.

"Put the boxes in your car, son. Derek and I need to talk."

This is something I thought I'd never have to do: have The Talk with a parent about my relationship with their pup. And is why I've tried to keep my distance, despite the beast deciding he's our Mate. I really don't need to be on the sheriff's bad side.

Walking up the stairs, I start trying to defuse the situation. "I swear I never gave him even a hint of encouragement."

He nods. "I know. But he seems to think he needs to be closer to you for some reason. It's almost as if he doesn't think you can take care of yourself." He flicks his head to get me to follow him to the opposite side of the porch from where Stiles is carrying boxes from the porch to his Jeep. "Besides, you know how he is when he gets his mind set on something."

"But-" I have no clue what to say. Over the past twenty months, I've had to fight a growing attraction to Stiles. The beast wanting to claim him is not enough to override his age and the fact that he's the sheriff's son.

He claps me on the shoulder. "You'll find that it's much easier to just give in on certain things."

"That's fine. But to just let him move into my house without asking if I mind?"

"Yeah, I'll give you that one. If you don't want him there-" He shrugs. "-I suggest better security. But if you let him move in, set some boundaries early and don't waiver from them."

"You're okay with this?"

"Truthfully? Not really. And it has nothing to do with you being a guy or even a Werewolf. Stiles isn't gay."

"Neither am I." He stares at me a little bit too long before sighing. "Yeah, bi people exist, Sheriff."

"I guess so." He leans against the porch rail and takes a sip of his coffee. "One piece of advice, Derek: if you don't think you can love him the way he obviously thinks he loves you, tell him now."

I nod, and for the first time in a long while, the beast whimpers at the thought of not being loved by someone not related to us. I truly thought Kate had killed his ability to care if we're loved or not. Glad to see I was wrong.

"If you're sure about this-" I wave one hand behind me where Stiles is slowly carrying the boxes to his Jeep, no doubt doing his best to eavesdrop on our conversation.

"I'm not really. But he is and I've learned to listen to his instincts where the supernatural is concerned." He peers over my head. "You sure he's Human?"

His question startles a laugh out of me. "One hundred percent."

"One hundred percent sure or he's one hundred percent Human?"

"Both." 

He grunts and I'm not entirely sure it's a positive reaction to my statement.

"Okay, I'm done," Stiles says louder than necessary.

Stilinski and I share a look, and I know I have to make my decision right now.

With a deep breath, I turn and approach Stiles. We stare at each other for several seconds before I reach into my pocket and pull out my keys. "You can take my car to school. I'll take your Jeep and at least get your boxes into the house."

A smile slowly spreads over his face and he steps forward to hug me but then thinks better of it. "Uh, thanks, Derek. You won't regret it. Promise." He snatches my keys from my palm and drops his in their place.

Feeling like this is going to blow up in my face in a spectacular way, I climb behind the wheel of his Jeep and head home. As I drive, the feeling that this will end horribly, most likely for me, increases.

At the house, I put his stuff in the room that is furthest from mine while still being in the house. The fact that it is an exact copy of the room I once shared with my sisters is something I refuse to think about.

Several hours later he finds me in my study trying to get some work done. "Can I drive your car to school every day?"

"No." I don't even look up from the report I'm reading.

"Why not?" He flops into one of the chairs in front of my desk.

"Because it's my car."

"I'll leave you the Jeep."

Shaking my head, I chuckle softly. "No."

"You're just mean." His feet appear on the edge of my desk and I look at him through my lashes. With a flush, he quickly puts them down and clears his throat. "So, uh, what's for dinner?"

"I have steak marinating."

"Yum! What are the sides?"

It's been a while since I've had to consult with another person about my dinner plans and I find it's a struggle to not let his questions annoy me. "There's some corn to roast on the grill and I think I have some squash and zucchini that can be sauteed."

"Sounds delicious." He's practically drooling. "Can I help?"

"Not tonight." He pouts playfully. "You need to unpack and get started on settling in."

"Oh, right!" 

I can see that it'll be easy to keep him happy. At least until he decides he belongs in my bed. 

"Show me my room?"

Pushing to my feet, I lead the way from my study to the room I put him in. I know he's wondering which of the rooms we're passing is mine but that is one thing he's never going to know. I'm going to follow his father's advice and set boundaries with Stiles and refuse to give an inch.

"Here." I toss open a door at the end of the hall. The room boasts one window on each of the outside walls with the bed tucked into the corner between the two windows.

"And your room is?" He turns in a circle in the middle of the room, taking it all in.

"Not in this part of the house."

He opens his mouth and I cut him off. "I want your word, Stiles, that you will not go looking for my room." He closes his mouth and frowns at me. "Your word. Or you can go live with Scott." I shake my finger in his face.

"You love putting that finger in my face, don't you?" 

I just raise my brows and tilt my head. 

"Oh, fine." He huffs out a breath. "I won't go looking for your room."

"I'm serious, Stiles. I don't want to wake up to find you've snuck into my bed."

"I get it, Derek." He sighs and puts his hands in his pockets. "Why'd you let me move in if you don't like me?

"I don't _dis_ like you, Stiles." I can feel my blood pressure rising. "Look, everyone, your dad included, told me that the only way I'd get any peace was to let you move in. For the record, I think this-" I point at the floor and twirl my finger in a circle. "-is a colossal mistake that I'm sure is going to blow up in my face. But I want peace. So if the only way to get that is to let you move in-" I shrug. "-so be it."

He nods but the damage of my words has been done. I've managed to hurt his feelings with my honesty. "Any other rooms off-limits?"

"Not really. But if the door to any common room is closed, it means that whoever is on the other side wants privacy."

"Isn't that what bedrooms are for?"

"Usually. But I do work and when I'm working I do so in the study downstairs. A closed door means 'do not disturb' unless it's an emergency. And my definition of an emergency is the house is on fire, under attack, or someone needs medical attention."

"And that someone should be?"

"Anyone who lives here."

"What about someone who wanders in from the forest? What if they're lost and hurt?"

"Use your judgment, Stiles."

"Okay. I think I got it. Any more rules?"

"Not at this time but I reserve the right to add more at any time."

"Fine." He's still pissed and hurt but trying to hide it.

After several long seconds, he turns to the stacks of boxes, opens one, and begins pulling things out. Satisfied that he's actually listening to me on this and will respect my wishes on our sleeping arrangements, I go back downstairs and get dinner ready.

To be completely fair, I expected him to force his way into my bed, despite promising not to, on his second night in the house. I know he went snooping that first night after I left him but he didn't find my room until the next day. The fact that he doesn't show up in my room until his fifth night shows that he tried to not invade my privacy.

I've had a hell of a day and I'm really looking forward to a nice hot shower and sleeping the sleep of the thoroughly exhausted. So walking into my room to find him sliding under the covers of my bed just pisses me off.

Of course, the beast loves the idea of having him so close. He seems to have decided that since Stiles is our Mate, even though I'm refusing to admit it, his place is in my bed, not on the other side of the house.

"What the fuck, Stiles?"

He's not quick enough to hide his fear at my tone. "Um, I just thought…" He trails off.

"You just thought, what, Stiles? That I'd be okay with you breaking a promise?"

"Um, not a broken promise."

"What?" I stalk where he's standing and he tries to back up but the nightstand is in his way.

"Yeah, see, I never actually promised." He gulps and licks his lips.

"I have very simple rules, Stiles."

"I know. I just…" Again he trails off. Tears are gathering in his eyes. "I just thought…that since wolves are such social creatures that it would be better if we...slept together. And I mean actually _slept_. Not, you know." He makes a motion with his hands that I figure is supposed to indicate us having sex. It's so ridiculous that it's all I can do to continue to frown at him.

He tries to smile and the beast starts straining against my control in an effort to get to our Mate so we can comfort him. I close my eyes and sigh, stepping back.

"Fine. But _no_ snuggling." 

He flashes me a huge grin when I turn to head into the bathroom.

My shower is not as relaxing as I was hoping but it still feels good. And when I climb under the sheets, I pretend it's Cora or Laura lying next to me.

The next morning, I wake to find my face pressed against his back with one arm thrown over his waist. I know he's awake so I attempt to roll over as if I'm still asleep.

"No snuggling, you said." And of course, he knows I'm awake.

"Fuck you, Stiles." I throw back the covers and get up.

"I'm trying," he mutters so softly that I'm sure he didn't think I'd hear so I pretend I didn't.

I trade my sleep pants for my jogging shorts.

"What're you doing?" he asks around a yawn.

"Going for a run." I stand up after tying my shoes and lean over where he's still lying in the bed. " _Do not_ be here when I return."

I stalk out of the house, slamming the front door behind me. The beast, that fucking bastard, is pissed that I didn't take advantage of Stiles sleeping in my bed last night and that I'm leaving him alone today. I don't give a fuck what he thinks about this. Just because Stiles is our Mate doesn't mean I have to claim him. His age is still a huge fucking hurdle. I've lived a lifetime in the six years between our ages.

Jumping off the porch, I start running. It's probably not a good idea to go running while this pissed but if I stay, I'll end up fucking Stiles and I _know_ that's not a good idea while pissed off.

In an effort to get me to go back, my libido, otherwise known as the fucking beast, is throwing images of a naked Stiles at me. Images of us fucking, him sucking my dick, me sucking his dick. Running in the woods is hazardous enough without being distracted by images of things that'll never happen. But I'm nothing if not stubborn, and I've said I will not fuck Stiles Stilinski, and I'm going to keep that promise, even if it kills me.

I've been running for almost an hour when I trip over a root and land hard on my hands and knees. I take the opportunity to catch my breath before looking around. I'm shocked to see I'm in a part of the forest I haven't been to in years. Not since I killed Paige, in fact. The root cellar where we said our final goodbyes isn't far from where I am.

Slowly, I get to my feet, brushing the debris from my hands and knees. I then begin the long jog home. The run did what I wanted it to. I am no longer in danger of raping Stiles. Because I can assure you if I ever let the beast free, he _will not_ ask before fucking Stiles senseless.

At the house, the silence is deafening. I had gotten used to the noise another person creates without realizing it. And now, I'm missing his presence.

Upstairs in my room, there is no evidence of him having ever invaded my bed. I frown because he made the bed when I usually just toss the covers back in place.

Did I hurt his feelings so badly that he felt the need to try and placate me by erasing all evidence of his presence? With a soft, humorless chuckle, because just a few months ago I didn't really care one way or the other if I hurt Stiles' feelings or not, I head to shower off the stink of my run.

Stiles obviously took my order to not be in my room when I return to heart and expanded it to include the whole house because he stays away most of the day. The only time I see him is when he joins me for dinner.

I'm starting to become concerned over how quiet he is but decide to take it as a gift because the boy can talk for days. Even while helping clean the kitchen he stays quiet, only answering questions in as few words as possible.

Just as I decide to ask what's bothering him he says he's tired and leaves the room. I put his odd behavior from my mind because I didn't get any work done today and I need to finish reading a report from my accountant about an issue that needs to be addressed before the quarter ends.

Finding myself unable to concentrate for more than a few minutes at a time, I give up around midnight. Climbing the stairs, I decide to apologize for what I said this morning.

Or rather, I would have, if he had been in my room. I know I should go to him but I'm too tired. Besides, he's probably asleep by now. And waking him will not have him accepting my apology.

The second my head hits the pillow, images of Stiles writhing in ecstasy return. My cock joins in by finding them extremely arousing. I try to ignore it but it's been about a year since I've had sex with another person.

Frustrated, I get up to take a cold shower and think of anything other than Stiles. It works and I return to bed.

Only to find I still cannot sleep for an entirely different reason. Apparently, I got used to sleeping next to someone again even if it was just for one night.

With a low growl, I get up and stomp across the house to the room I put Stiles in. He didn't close the door, so I just stand there and watch him sleep for several minutes. He looks so much younger like this.

Closing my eyes to the view, I ask myself a question I don't know the answer to. "What am I doing?"

I know that if I accept what he's offering, he'll just get hurt. And how can I trust that I won't get hurt by him? Two of my more serious relationships were with women who used me for their own selfish reasons. While I don't think Stiles would do anything like that, he's a lot like Trevor, I can't be sure. So isn't it better to not even take a chance?

Another part of me, a part I haven't heard from since Paige, tells me it is taking a chance that makes life worth living. And if I let this young man love me, I won't regret it.

And then my mother's voice speaks, "Trust your instincts, Derek. You know you can trust him. He will never betray you or the Pack. Let his love heal your wounds. Wolves weren't meant to be alone. Let him in."

My mother had never steered me wrong, so I step into the room and approach the bed. "Stiles," I call softly.

He moans and curls tighter around his pillow. God, I hope he's not having a sex dream.

"Stiles, wake up." I poke his shoulder but he just bats my hand away and mutters something about five more minutes. "Wake up." I lean down and speak directly into his ear.

His eyes pop open and he flinches. "What?"

"C'mon. Bring your pillow." I turn and walk out, fully expecting him to follow.

"Derek?" His tone says he's not completely awake but at least he's following me. "What's going on?" he asks around a yawn.

"You belong in my room. Tomorrow I expect you to move all your stuff."

He manages to grab my arm and get me to stop and face him. "I didn't think you even liked me."

I sigh deeply. Time for more honesty that will hurt his feelings. "As I've already told you, I don't _dis_ like you, Stiles. And, yes, there have been days where I barely tolerated you. But you've been here almost a week now and I haven't wanted to kill you."

"Well, that's something I guess. But to move me into your room?"

I just barely refrain from rolling my eyes. "Apparently just one night with someone in my bed is enough for the social wolf side of me to remind me that I used to share a bed with my sisters and it's cozier with another body."

"Wow." His tone is flat so I'm not sure what exactly he's feeling.

"Yeah. Now if you don't mind-" I gesture toward the door to my room. "I'd like to get some sleep."

"Yeah, well, some of us _were_ asleep." 

When I raise one brow, he just grins at me before entering my room and settling down in the bed.

He is going to be the death of me one day, I just know it.

I have the best night's sleep of my adult life with Stiles in my bed. The only thing to spoil my new improved mood is that by the end of the week the whole Pack has moved in. 

First, it was just Scott. Then Allison and Lydia. Boyd, Erica, Danny, and Ethan arrive together, followed within a few hours by Liam, Hayden, Kira, Malia, Isaac, Corey, and Mason. Parrish and Jackson are the only ones who don't actually move in but they're here so often, they might as well have.

And that's why I've shut myself in the front room. Sure I could go to my room but Stiles can find me there and I'm looking for peace and quiet so I can relax with a good book. And since the number one rule of this house is that if the door to a common room is closed, the person, or persons, on the other side do not wish to be disturbed.

And of course, Stiles just has to break that rule, too. "You do remember what a closed common room door means, don't you, Stiles?"

"Yeah, I just need a quiet place."

"Not this one, Stiles."

"C'mon, Derek. I promise to not disturb you."

I know that's a lie because just his mere existence disturbs me in all the right ways, but I find it impossible to say no to him these days. So with a heavy sigh, I give in. "Fine."

I try and concentrate on my book again, but my attention is grabbed by him flopping down on the couch next to me, bumping my shoulder.

"Personal space, please." It has become our code for when someone is too close.

"You're hogging all the light from the lamp." He opens his book and leans against me.

"You're killing me," I mutter, shaking my head and returning my attention to my book again.

"Naw, I'm bringing you to life."

I turn to look at him, and when I see his open and happy face, I'm hit with the urgent need to kiss him. Something I haven't felt in days. Looking quickly away, I try to ignore his presence at my side.

To give Stiles credit, he manages to not disrupt my concentration again for nearly twenty minutes. Unfortunately, for him, I had just gotten engrossed in my book again and it was nearing the big reveal.

"I just have to talk about this book!"

I roll my eyes and grind my teeth. "You promised."

"I left you alone for a long time!"

"Two seconds is not 'a long time'."

"Twenty minutes, Derek! You have any idea how hard it is for me to be quiet that long?"

With a deep sigh, I toss my book on the coffee table. "Fine. Tell me about your book."

"Okay, so there's this woman and this man." He waves the book as if I had doubts about which book he's talking about.

"You're reading a romance novel?"

He ducks his head. "It was my mom's." His voice is small and soft. 

I understand his pain at thinking about his mother.

"I get it. You're reading her books to feel closer to her."

"Yeah." He takes a deep breath.

"So, this man and this woman?"

"Yeah, so the woman loves the man but he doesn't love her back because they're sort of enemies." 

He can't be talking about us, can he? I mean, we're not enemies and never were, not really. 

"For some convoluted reason that only makes sense in romance novels, they have to live together. Over the next several weeks, the man starts to soften towards the woman and they have several moments where they're just about to kiss but something always interrupts them at the last second."

"So, how far into it are you?"

"They just kissed for the first time. I think she's about to tell him she's in love with him."

Is he using this to tell me he loves me? Surely not. I mean, he can't possibly love me, right? He's still just a kid, and what does he know about love anyway?

"Do you think he feels the same?"

He turns to face me, his right knee pressed to my left hip. "She doesn't think so. But he does things she likes just to see her smile and hear her laugh."

"Did she enjoy the kiss?"

"She did."

"Did he?"

"Well, it's from her point of view so we don't really know. But he is trying to unbuckle her belt and grab her boob at the same time so I think he did."

His response has me laughing. "I'd say he did, too." 

Stiles' face goes soft and there's an emotion shining in his eyes that I can't identify. 

"What?"

"You don't laugh enough."

"Not much to laugh about these days."

"I suppose not." 

I wonder if he's thinking of how Jennifer tricked me. Or if it's any of the hundred other things that have happened in the months since we met.

"You know, since we _are_ sharing a bed, I think maybe we should get to know each other better."

I know what he wants to discuss but I'm not willing to discuss that with him since I'm not fucking him. And yet, I find myself opening my mouth and saying, "Yeah? Exactly what do you want to know?"

He pretends to think. "How much experience do you have with guys?"

"Enough." He presses his lips together and narrows his eyes on my face. "You're not getting a number. Stiles. Just know I've been with at least one man." I cross my ankles on the table, thankful he can't hear the lie because I've been with exactly one man. "What about you?"

"I've done everything except fuck." A spike of jealousy stabs through my gut at this knowledge that some girl has been that intimate with him. 

I nod. "With a guy, too?"

"Well, um, only once." He rubs one hand along the back of his neck.

"Please tell me it wasn't Scott."

A blush rushes up his face and he ducks his head. "We were twelve and wanted to know what it felt like."

"And?"

"I prefer to receive."

"I see. You know that that won't fly with any man you hook up with, right? If he sucks your dick, he'll expect you to suck his, too."

"Really?" And now I _know_ we're talking about us.

"Absolutely. It's only fair. Of course, it is possible that the reason you didn't like sucking Scott's dick is that it was _Scott_ and not some guy you actually wanted to have sex with."

"I didn't think of that." He props his elbow on the back of the couch and rests his head on his hand. "So, how old were you when you had sex for the first time?"

"Fifteen."

And now I'm nostalgic for the person I was before Kate. I was so fucking naive; much more so than the teenager sitting next to me, trying to find a way to get me to fuck him. Oh to be so young again! Back when all that truly mattered was who's going out with whom and if you'll ever get naked with another person.

But I can't let him succeed in his seduction of me. The beast is pissed at my continued denial of Stiles as our - _his_ \- Mate but tough balls. I am no longer that randy teenager who was ruled by his dick. I have lived a lifetime in the six years between our ages and I refuse to let the darkness that I allowed to infect me during those years get anywhere near him. He's too good, too _pure_ to taint with the things I've seen and had to do in order to survive.

There's a reason the Nogitsune chose him last year and yet he still somehow managed to come out the other side mostly untouched. Sure there are moments when I can see the Nogitsune's influence and feel its lingering energy but Stiles is still very much _Stiles_ and it's for that reason (well, that and so many more) that I insist on keeping my hands to myself. And it is so very fucking difficult now that we're sharing a bed.

"So, not Paige, then." He looks sad as if my love story with Paige is all the more tragic because we didn't lose our virginity to each other.

"No. Not Paige." My heart skips a beat at the memory of my first love.

"I'm sorry."

"For what? Paige was my first love. She will always hold a special place in my heart because of that. I don't have to have had sex with her for it to be any more special."

"Okay." He falls silent and we sit there staring at each other for a long moment.

"Any other questions?" I start to reach out for my book.

"Yeah. What was your first kiss like?"

"What?"

"Was it like the kisses in my book or did you just grab her head and go for it?"

I know where he's trying to make me go but I don't think he really wants to go there. At least not with me. Oh, he thinks he does, but I'm sure he will regret it.

"It was a slow lean in after an afternoon spent talking about absolutely nothing."

"I've never had one of those. Either I've just gone for it, or the girl has."

"Uh-huh." Looking into his eyes, I decide to go ahead and give him what he thinks he wants. Show him that it's not what he thinks it is. Plus, the beast wants to know what he tastes like.

Taking the book from his hands, I toss it on the coffee table next to mine. As I start to lean closer, I can't decide if I want him to stop me or not. There's a very valid reason why I haven't made a move in the two weeks since I stopped fighting his place in my life. And his lack of sexual experience is only a very small part of it. Of course, he _did_ just say that he's done everything except fuck someone.

Thinking of that has jealousy spiking again deep in my gut. It's not something I'm proud of, or even like about myself, this jealousy for some unknown teenage girl but it's there and I'm nearly choking with it. Seriously, how could I get upset that he's made out with some girls before he met me? At his age, I'm surprised he's still a virgin. Not many people these days graduate high school without having had sex at least once.

Just the thought of that, his virginity, has the possessive beast sitting up and howling with pleasure and a need to claim him for my own starts to build. But I refuse to rush this. I _will_ be his _only_ sexual partner so I want it to happen at the right time. My first time was a bit rushed; we just wanted to lose our virginity, and as a result, I still regret it. Not the girl or that it happened at all, just when it happened. And I do not want him to regret our first time.

He licks his lips and I find myself wanting to follow his tongue back into his mouth. I take a deep breath, my nostrils flaring at his intoxicating scent. Stopping mere inches from his lips, I can feel his breath on my face. Looking between his bright brown eyes and his lips, I smirk at how his breath catches in his throat.

"Do I frighten you, Stiles?"

He swallows thickly. "N-no." 

My smirk stretches into a grin at his stammer. "Liar." I chuckle softly. "I can smell your fear." Our noses are almost touching now.

"It's not you that I'm afraid of."

"Oh?"

"Derek." My name is a whispered plea and suddenly I know what it is he's so afraid of.

He's afraid I'll reject him. That I only keep him around because he won't stay away. But he couldn't be further from the truth, because I'm afraid too. Afraid of how much I could come to care for him. Or how my enemies might use him against me, and he's too innocent, too _good_ for that.

But damned if I can continue to keep my fucking hands off him.

Leaning even closer, I finally close the scant inch between us and press my lips to his. Neither of us close our eyes, so I can see his pupils dilate even further.

When I pull back, his forehead wrinkles in confusion. But before he can complain, I lean back in and capture his upper lip between both of mine. He gasps, and I move on to his lower lip.

I'm sure the scene is fucking romantic as hell, with a fire burning in the fireplace and the lights just bright enough for him to read his book. But fuck if I care. This is Stiles and it's our first kiss. And he just told me that he has never had one of those kisses where the couple has a moment and you just _know_ they're about to fucking kiss.

His eyes flutter close, and he begins kissing me back by closing his lips around my upper lip. Chuckling softly, I wrap my right hand around his neck with my thumb under his jaw. This allows me to not only lift but also tilt his head, so I can seal my mouth to his and sweep my tongue around his mouth, rubbing against his until he takes more of an active role in our kiss.

With a low moan, he sags against me. His left hand comes up to wrap around my wrist, his fingers landing on my pulse point with his thumb rubbing across my knuckles. He is so very fucking responsive, and I feel myself harden even more at the thought that I could fuck him right here and now if I wanted. But I don't want to. Not right now, at least.

But I am enjoying kissing him, so I begin to press him back onto the couch, so I can stretch out on top of him. His right knee is still between us from where he's been sitting sideways on the couch and I shove it out of the way. He wraps it around my hip and twines his left leg around my right thigh. That fucking beast that thinks Stiles belongs to us is growling and snarling, urging me to take what he is so very freely giving, but I tighten my hold on my control and grip the back of the couch so forcefully that I can hear the frame creaking.

Stiles' hands find their way under my shirt, and his touch burns so deliciously. I arch my back, encouraging him to touch me more. I never knew I was so touch-starved until he came into my life. Slowly, his hands travel up my back, his touch feather-light. A low growl escapes my throat and his hands flatten against my shoulder blades, his fingers gripping firmly as if afraid I'll get up and leave.

His grip on my shoulders relaxes when I gentle my exploration of his mouth. The thought of him with red and swollen lips has me grinding my erection down against his. I know I still frighten him, even though he's never acted like it, but it's obviously not enough to keep my kiss from arousing him.

When he pulls his mouth from mine so he can breathe, I press my lips to his ear and say in a deep, rough voice, "Tell me to stop, Stiles. Tell me to fucking stop right the fuck now."

"No." His voice has that stubborn edge it gets right before he does something stupid. He pushes on my chest until we can look each other in the eye. "Don't stop. I want you to fuck me, Derek." He wraps his leg tighter around my hip. "Fuck me."

His heart is beating extremely fast, almost too fast. I really want to rip his clothes off and bury myself in his body but I resist because now is neither the time nor the place.

He licks his lips and I dive back in for another taste. I find I can't be as gentle as I should be but he doesn't seem to mind. His nails dig into the skin of my shoulders and I growl softly deep in my throat at the sting. When he tries to get a better grip, his hands come to rest over my tattoo. I instantly stiffen as it hits me like a bolt out of the blue; the real reason I've been keeping my distance.

This right here, my relationship with a Human teenager, is the most stable relationship I've had since I was fourteen. I can't count my relationship with Trevor because until the end it felt like he was only in it for the sex; same with Vanessa. Vanessa didn't come right out and say she was only interested in the sex but I know that's how she felt. And that realization has me pulling back.

He whimpers at the loss; his eyes flutter open and he frowns up at me. "Derek?"

With a hard shake of my head, I sit back, running my hands through my hair. "Go to bed, Stiles."

Slowly, he sits up. "Derek?" 

I can hear the confusion in his voice and I know he thinks he did something wrong. And he kind of did. He stormed into my life and refused to leave.

"It's getting late and you have school tomorrow."

"You're not my dad." And now he's pouting.

"No, but I am your guardian until you graduate. Now, go." I keep my gaze locked on the fire because I know if I look at him, I'll lose all my resolve and take him upstairs and fuck his brains out and neither of us would get any sleep tonight.

"I can miss one day, Derek."

His stubbornness has me grinding my teeth in frustration. "You have a test in history, Stiles. Now, go. To. Bed!"

His sharply indrawn breath is like a punch to the gut. I haven't spoken to him in that tone in a long time. He climbs from the couch slowly, as if he thinks I'll change my mind. The frame of the couch groans under the pressure of my hand on the armrest and that seems to be the impetus he needs to get his act together and leave the fucking room on his own.

Misery is coming off him in waves, and the part of me that is just now realizing that I'm in love with him can't let him leave like this. I reach out and grab his wrist as he passes, causing him to stop. "Don't give up on me, Stiles." My throat is so tight with emotion that all that comes out is a soft whisper. But I know he heard because he wraps his hand around my wrist and squeezes before walking away. But I refuse to let go, or maybe I _can't_ let go, so that as he walks away, my fingers trail down his palm and desperately try to hold on to his.

I continue to sit on the couch, staring at the fire long after Stiles has gone to bed. It isn't until I can't hear him sobbing any longer that I get up and head upstairs to our - _my_ \- room. Even though I know I'm stronger with a Pack, I've been alone for long enough that I'm not sure I can give him what he needs.

Standing at the foot of the bed watching him sleep is probably the creepiest thing I've ever done but I can't help it, just like I know that I'll no longer be able to keep my fucking hands off him.

But everything about him calls to me and it's getting increasingly difficult to resist. With a jolt, I realize that I don't want to any longer. And that is why I have to either leave or make him leave. And since we all know that _he_ won't stay away, it's up to me to go.

My decision made, I begin packing a bag as quietly as I can. If he wakes up, I know I won't be able to walk away and will probably fuck him through the fucking mattress. So I _need_ to walk away before I get any more attached to him and him to me. It hurts, knowing I'm going to be hurting him, but it needs to be done. He deserves so much more than I can give him and he won't go for it if I'm still around.

With one final look at the boy sleeping in my bed, I turn and leave the house. Once I'm far enough away, I text Scott to tell him what's going on. I keep telling myself that I'm not running away, that I'm only leaving so that Stiles will realize he can do better than me. But I know I'm lying and that is what I blame for turning the car around some three hours later and heading back to Beacon Hills.

It doesn't surprise me at all when I pull into the parking lot of the high school without even making the conscious decision to go there. Following my nose, I find Stiles and Scott standing in front of some lockers. I grab Stiles' left wrist, ignoring Scott's questions about why I've come back, and pull him along behind me as I go in search of somewhere more private. Finally, I locate a janitor's closet and manhandle him inside before shoving him up against the door the second it closes behind us.

"Wha-?" I steal the words from his mouth with a deep kiss.

He moans and his backpack slides off his shoulder to thump loudly on the floor when he sags against me. I slip my right thigh between his legs and press my knee up against his balls. He whimpers and fists the hem of my shirt, tugging me closer. When he starts to ride my thigh, I bury my fingers in his hair and lean into him a bit more. I can feel my shirt tighten across my back, telling me he's clenching his fists tighter. The sound that rumbles through him is one of pure frustration.

God, he tastes so fucking good. I could kiss him all day and never tire of it. But since we both need to breathe, I pull back and rest my forehead against his. We stand there for a long moment, staring into each other's eyes and sharing our breath.

He breaks the spell by licking his lips. When I try to follow it back into his mouth, he turns his head. "Not that I'm complaining, but what the fuck, dude?"

I shift away a little bit, my gaze locked on his in order to avoid the temptation of his lips. "I have to go away for a f- um, a while."

"This have anything to do with why you didn't come to bed last night?"

"Yeah." And it's not a total lie because I did leave while he was asleep.

He nods but I can smell his rising anger. "How long will you be gone?"

Not sure exactly why he's angry, I blink at him for a few seconds until my brain registers that he asked me a question. "A few weeks. Maybe longer."

"And you didn't tell me because?"

Ah. He's pissed because I told Scott, but not him. I take a full step back, putting some space between us and removing my hands from his body. "I knew that Scott would tell you." I shrug. "Guess I just didn't really think about it. I haven't had to answer to anyone in a while."

"Uh-huh. And you're here now because?" He crosses his arms over his chest.

I open my mouth but nothing comes out. Lowering my head, I stare at the floor for several seconds and take the time to get my thoughts in order. I need to decide if I want to lie or tell the truth. When I lift my head, the look on his face tells me I had better tell the truth, or at least make my lie very fucking believable. 

"Truth?" He raises his eyebrows. "I wanted to kiss you again."

"That right?" He grabs the front of my shirt, surprising me enough that he's able to haul me close again. "You just wanted to kiss me again?"

"Yeah."

He smirks at me. "So? Why aren't you kissing me?"

I chuckle and lick my way back into his mouth. This kiss is soft and gentle just like our first kiss last night.

A bell rings just as his hands find their way into my back pockets. He pulls away and thumps his head back against the door. "Much as I'd love to skip and continue to make out with you, this is the class with that fucking test that you were so fucking concerned with last night."

With a sigh, I rest my forehead against his again. "And I should get back on the road."

"You'll call or text?" He picks up his backpack and shoulders it before opening the door.

"No. I won't have time and service will be spotty." Why did I just tell him a fucking lie?

He chews his lower lip. "Okay. Be careful and get in touch when you can."

"I will." If the hall wasn't full of teenagers rushing to class, I'd kiss him again. As it is, all I can do is brush his hand with mine as I pass where he's standing.

Several hours later, I pull into the parking lot of one of the seedier looking strip clubs I've ever seen. The outside is fairly nondescript and completely unassuming. But the inside, with the half-naked women dancing listlessly around the room and on the stages along with the low lighting and flashing neon and Motley Crüe's 'Girls, Girls, Girls' blaring from the blown speakers, leaves you with absolutely no doubt as to what kind of establishment you are in.

A strip club during the day is completely different from one at night. The clientele reek of desperation and misery and most of the dancers do too. It's not a pleasant smell by any means and I blow two quick, hard breaths out through my nose, trying to get rid of the stench but I know that it's gonna linger for _days_.

I'm only a few steps inside when the MC makes a garbled announcement and a dancer appears on the center stage.

She can't be much more than twenty, if that, and looks just enough like Stiles that she could be a long-lost relative. And of course, just the thought of him has me spinning on my heels and climbing back in my car. My first instinct is to return to Beacon Hills and Stiles but I refuse to give in this soon.

I left for several reasons, the least of which is because he deserves so much more than me, but the biggest of which is I need space to think, to decide just what I want from him. I need to decide if I really want to spend the rest of my life with a Human who can't even give me pups.

At a local no-tell motel, I shove enough cash for a week's stay at the bored looking attendant. I'm nearly positive I won't even make it through the night, but I'll be damned if I'm not gonna at least try. I manage to surprise myself by making it three days. Three days and nights of talking myself out of texting or calling Stiles. And trying to convince myself to stop reading his texts, which just tests my resolve.

It's nearly midnight on the third night when I shove the room key under the plastic partition. I don't even give the attendant the chance to say anything, just shove the key at him, turn around, and stalk away. The urge to get back to Stiles is so great that I don't even care that I still have four days paid for. The need for Stiles is a living, breathing thing and it's starting to get my inner beast all riled up.

The desire to not let that rage out is what I blame for breaking the speed limit in my effort to get back to Stiles the soonest. And now I'm lying to myself, again.

It's just past 2am when I park my car next to Stiles' Jeep. A weight I didn't know existed lifts at this evidence that he didn't return to his father's house while I was gone.

I really want to stalk my chosen prey through the house, despite knowing he's in my bed right where he belongs, but I don't want to wake everyone.

Removing my jacket, I toss it at the coat tree in the entrance hall that is one of the things that now exists in my house thanks to Lydia. If not for the fact that I don't want to leave a trail, I'd strip on my way up the stairs and down the hall to my - _our_ \- room. As it is, I'm toeing off my shoes as I step through the door.

The sight before me has me pausing with my hands on my belt buckle. Stiles is sprawled on his stomach, buck naked. The limited light streaming through the partially open blinds shows that he has kicked the covers to the floor and highlights his glorious ass. His even breathing tells me that he's deeply asleep, but I need him to be awake.

I finish undressing and place one knee on the edge of the mattress between his feet. Leaning down, I place my nose lightly on the skin behind his left knee and inhale deeply. His scent really is extremely intoxicating. Moving slowly, I trail my nose up the back of his thigh until I get to his left asscheek.

The temptation to taste is strong, and I don't even fight it, just run the flat of my tongue across his skin. A low growl of satisfaction builds in the back of my throat. I need him awake right the fuck now.

"Wake up, Stiles." I nip his right cheek, pulling a soft moan and slight wiggle from the body beneath me.

"C'mon, Stiles. Wake up." Another swipe of my tongue, across his lower back this time.

"Hm." I know that noise. It means he's slowly waking up.

"I need you to wake up, Stiles." I palm both asscheeks, squeezing slightly, then roughly sweep my thumbs up his crack, pulling his cheeks apart so I can bury my face between them and breathe deeply. His scent is strongest here and I find it's like a drug.

The need to taste strikes again so I lick from his balls up to his asshole. Running my tongue around it, I squeeze his cheeks again, harder. He shifts again and groans a bit.

"Let's see if this'll wake you." I slowly press the tip of my tongue against his hole. 

He stiffens for half a second; it is instinctual after all. When he relaxes, I begin fucking him with my tongue.

All he does is moan, so I add my teeth and nip at the patch of skin between his balls and hole.

"What the hell?" He jerks and twists to look at me over his shoulder. "Derek?"

"If you don't want me to fuck you raw, I suggest you get me the lube and a condom."

He blinks at me for a moment before twisting the other direction and grabbing the bottle of lube and a condom from my bedside drawer.

"Here." He hands them to me and rolls over to settle on his back.

It's my first time seeing him completely naked and I find him beyond perfect. He is skinnier than me but since he's completely Human, it's not a bad thing. What muscles he does have are well defined and show that he is stronger than he looks when fully clothed. His dick is just like him, long and thin, but not too thin. He's fully erect with a tiny drop of precome just begging for me to lick away.

Rubbing some lube between my fingers, I lean down and run my tongue across the tip before swallowing him whole while pressing two fingers into him. His right hand lands on my head while his left grips my right shoulder.

Looking up his body, I do my best to smirk at the look of pure arousal on his face. He has his lower lip caught between his teeth and his eyes are extremely heavy-lidded.

Twisting my fingers, I slowly lift off his cock. When just the tip is in my mouth, I dip my tongue into his slit. His breath catches in his throat and he lifts his hips, trying to get me to take him down my throat again.

Squirting more lube on my fingers, I add a third finger and lower my head, adding a touch of teeth. His grip on my hair tightens and his nails dig into my skin. I rub against his prostate and he gasps.

Pulling completely off, I chuckle. "Hello, Mr. Prostate." I press kisses on his lower abdomen, feeling the muscles quiver at my touch.

"Bastard," he hisses, tugging on my hair.

I twist my head slightly, trying to get him to ease up. "Ah, you-" I stop short of making the 'you know you love me' joke because I don't know for sure that he loves me.

"Derek," he growls, shoving on my head with both hands, silently begging me to go back to doing my level best to suck his brains out through his dick.

I am very willing to do as he wants, just not right this minute. Licking a stripe up his cock, I revel in the way his breath hitches, then suck on the head. This is obviously not what Stiles wants me to do. He digs his nails in the skin of my shoulder, tugs sharply on my hair, and growls low in his throat.

More lube and another finger. I now have four fingers in his ass and I begin to fuck him with them, keeping them spread slightly. Taking him deep in my throat, I press my nose against his stomach and swallow.

His hips jackknife off the bed and he comes hot and thick down my throat. Ah, to be eighteen again and have a hair-trigger.

Slowly, I pull off, swirling my tongue around his cock to make sure I get it all. "Put the condom on me, Stiles." My voice is rougher than I expect. I clear my throat and say it again.

His hands are shaking so hard he drops the packet a couple of times and has difficulty getting it open. After several long seconds, he manages to tear it open and pull out the rolled latex. Our eyes meet in the instant he wraps his fingers around my cock in preparation of rolling the condom on. A smirk grows on his face while he slowly - oh, so fucking slowly - rolls it down my dick.

And then he's guiding me to his entrance even though my fingers are still buried in his ass. He places my tip just below my fingers, then wraps his left hand around my right wrist and slowly pulls my fingers out while pushing my dick in.

With a twist, I grab his hand, interlocking our fingers, before pressing them against the pillow under his head.

He hasn't let go of me and I can't go any further until he does. To try and get him to realize that this'll be much better if he lets go, I pull back a bit then press in, crushing his hand between us. His smirk stretches into a grin and he trails the backs of his fingers up my abdomen to curl them around my hip.

This hyperactive teenager is going to be the death of me one day. But damned if I care. At least I'll go happy.

Releasing his hand, I reach back and tug his left leg higher up on my waist, then shift my weight and do the same with his right leg.

The beast is snarling and straining against my control. I can't let him take over. Not this first time. So I clench my fists in the sheets next to Stiles' head and say, "I suggest you hold on. And I'm sorry this can't be slow or gentle."

And with that as his only warning, I pull almost all the way out before slamming back in so hard his teeth clack together when his jaw snaps shut.

He tightens his legs around my waist and grips my triceps and does his level best to meet me thrust for thrust. I know the pace is fast and punishing but I've denied my feelings for him for too long; refused to allow myself to want this for longer than I care to admit for this to be anything other than what it is: a claiming.

The beast has just enough control of me that if I was still an Alpha, this would truly be me claiming my Mate but as it is, it's just me making him mine.

I can feel my orgasm building and I want him with me, or at least close behind me, so I reach between us and take him in hand, jerking him counterpoint to my thrusts.

He manages to surprise me by coming again after just a dozen or so strokes. It's enough of a surprise to push me back from the edge which allows me to enjoy watching him in the throes of his climax. I slow my thrusts but keep them hard and deep.

His eyes roll back in his head and he arches up as he has yet another orgasm, this one dry. "D-" The fact that he doesn't even have enough strength to say my name is all it takes to have my hips slamming home one last time as my head snaps back and I howl my pleasure at the ceiling. The beast joins me in announcing to my Pack that I've finally claimed my Mate as my own.

I can feel exhaustion pulling at my limbs but I can't sleep, not yet. I can, however, rest for a bit. Lowering myself to my elbows, I put my head on the pillow and concentrate on matching my breathing and heart rate to his.

He's lightly running the fingers of one hand up and down my spine while making lazy patterns on one shoulder with the fingers of the other. And it's distracting.

Once we're both breathing normally again, I lift my head, being sure to rub my nose against his. The beast is making contented noises and for the first time in a while, we are in agreement. As of now, Stiles belongs to us. And we won't ever let him go.

Stiles' eyes are closed and he has a self-satisfied smile on his lips, the kind that most people would call a cocky grin. And I just can't help but kiss it.

His smile widens and his eyes open. "Hi," he whispers, suddenly all shy.

"Hi." I grin back at him.

"You weren't gone as long as you said you would be."

"Hm," I hum and rub my nose against his again. "Turns out, I didn't really need to leave after all."

"That right?" He chuckles and I slip out of him, making him hiss at the slight pain.

I press a kiss to the tip of his nose before moving off him to sit on the edge of the bed where I take care of the condom. Pulling open the bedside drawer, I take a couple of wet wipes, hand one to him, and use the other to clean myself off.

He places a kiss to my right shoulder before wrapping his arms around my upper arm. "I missed you." He kisses my shoulder again.

"Why'd you do that?"

"Do what? Kiss your shoulder?" I nod and he shrugs. "It's something my dad used to do to my mom. When I asked, he said it's just another way to express affection for the person you're in love with."

Love. Such a simple word but when said by Stiles to me, even if he didn't actually say 'I love you', it makes my heart beat faster.

"You're in love with me, Stiles?" I find I truly need him to actually say those three little words, need it like I need air.

He props his chin on my shoulder. "Yeah, I am. For a long time now."

Is he really gonna make me beg? "Stiles." My voice breaks on his name and he kisses my shoulder again before lying back.

"It's alright, Derek. You'll say it when you're ready." 

I frown down at him and the smile he gives me is a little bit sad. 

"I love you, Derek. I know you love me, too, even if you're not ready to admit it."

Perceptive little shit. But I can see that he's not as okay with my not saying it back as he wants me to believe. "You think you know me so well?" I get up to get the covers from the floor before joining him in the bed.

From the corner of my eye, I see him shrug. "I like to think so." His tone is off and I chalk it up to my refusal to tell him I love him. But since I still have difficulty actually saying those words about him, even to myself, I can't let myself feel bad.

"Did you get hot? Is that why you kicked the covers to the floor?"

He frowns and rolls over to his left side. "Must have had a bad dream." Something about his tone bothers me but the more I poke at it, the more it eludes me so I just leave it alone and curl around him with my face pressed to his back.

"Can we do that again?" His question startles a laugh from me.

"Sure. Just let me get some sleep first."

"Well, just so's ya know, some of us _were_ already asleep." He throws his words from two weeks ago at me again.

"You want I should apologize for waking you?"

He twists to stare aghast at me over his shoulder. "Don't you fucking dare!"

"So you enjoyed how I woke you?"

"You know I did!"

"Then give me two hours, Stiles. That's all I'm looking for, here. Two fucking hours. You think you can do that?" I kiss the back of his shoulder when he turns back around and I feel him instantly relax.

"Yeah, I think I can do that."

"Thank you," I say around a yawn.

After wiggling a bit, an action that has me pulling my hips away from his butt lest he think I changed my mind, he drifts off back to sleep. Just as I'm about to follow him into slumber, a possible reason for his tone earlier hits me and has my eyes popping open as other things now become clear, such as his reason for climbing into my bed that night two weeks ago.

"Oh, Stiles," I whisper against his skin. "I am so fucking sorry I didn't hear what you were trying to tell me."

Pressing my forehead harder against the body in my arms, and letting the tears stinging my eyes flow freely, I finally fall asleep.

And of course, he just can't let me have two hours of rest. No, he wakes me twice so that I can love him in the dark and each time he is just as responsive as that very first time.

A shaft of light hits me in the face, waking me from a very lovely dream of Stiles sucking my dick. For the first time since moving in, I hate that I picked a room facing east. Then I remember that when I came in, Stiles had the blinds slightly open where I keep them completely closed at night.

A quick glance at the clock shows it's nearly 7. I roll over, intent on waking him so I can teach him how to suck my brains out through my cock but my growling stomach forces me to abandon that plan.

With a kiss to his cheek, I climb from the bed and snag a pair of sleep pants on my way from the room headed to the kitchen.

Upon entering the kitchen, I find the other members of my Pack giving me a standing ovation. Someone, Scott most likely, even whistles.

"Awesome! Well done!" Boyd slaps me on the back.

"And, might I add, 'bout time!" Erica glares at me before smiling from ear to ear.

I look around, confused as to why they're acting like I just won some prize. "What?"

"You and Stiles!" Lydia's smile is so big I can almost count all her teeth.

I shake my head and look to Scott for clarification.

"Heard ya howl last night." He wiggles his eyebrows. "Didn't know you had it in ya, old man."

The young Alpha is lucky that I'm so sated. "I'll show you who's an old man!" I shout, lunging playfully in his direction only to be brought up short by Ethan and Parrish. Not that Scott stuck around to see, diving out the back door, the coward.

Laughingly, I put my hands up and step back. Ethan and Parrish grin at me to show they knew I wasn't serious, and we all laugh about it.

"Y'all should get to school." I make shooing motions but none of them budge an inch. Scott even comes back in the back door, although he stays close enough to dart out again if necessary.

"What about Stiles?" Allison asks, looking from Scott to me and back.

"I'll call him out later." I walk over to the cabinet where we keep the bowls and take down two before grabbing the cereal off the top of the fridge. "Oh, and you might want to stay gone until late Sunday."

They all share a look before agreeing and rushing out the door.

I pour cereal into the bowls, add milk, and pour two glasses of orange juice before placing everything on the tray my dad used whenever he'd give my mother breakfast in bed and then carry it all upstairs where I find Stiles pushing himself into a sitting position.

He gives me a sleepy smile. "I can go downstairs to eat, ya know. Besides, I do have to go to school." He yawns and scratches at a patch of beard burn on his chest. "What time's it, anyway?"

"Don't worry. I'm calling you out today." I climb onto the bed and set the tray between us.

He stares hard at me for a moment. "Okay, who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?" As soon as the last word leaves his mouth, his eyes go round and he turns panicked eyes on me.

"Am I your boyfriend, Stiles?"

"Well, um. I… don't…"

I decide to stop torturing him. With a chuckle, I say, "It's okay, Stiles. I would like to be your boyfriend."

"Yeah?" I nod and he relaxes, reaching for the bowl nearest him. "Good. I like the way it sounds: Derek Hale, my boyfriend."

"It does sound really good: my boyfriend, Stiles Stilinski." He gives me a shy smile before leaning over and pressing a kiss to my left shoulder.

I'm reaching for the other bowl when something occurs to me. "You don't have a test today, do you?" While I'm very willing to let him skip today so I can spend it learning how to make him scream, if he has a test he'll need to go for that, at least.

He shakes his head and swallows his mouthful of cereal. "Nope."

"Good."

We're almost finished eating when he turns to face me. "So, why am I eating cold cereal?"

I knew it was a mistake to cook breakfast at least once a week. "I got sidetracked by the Pack. Apparently, I howled that first time."

He snorts a laugh. "All three, actually."

"What? No." 

He bites his lip, trying to stifle his giggles, and nods. 

I thump my head back against the headboard. "Great." I should have followed my instincts and made the bedrooms soundproof when I rebuilt the house. But I'll take care of that, or at least soundproof our room, soon.

He kisses my shoulder again. "I'm kinda flattered, if I'm honest."

"You would be." The heat of a blush rushes up my neck.

Stiles props his chin on my shoulder. "I still love you." I can still hear the laughter in his voice. "We can work on you not announcing to the whole house every time we fuck."

"And we'll start now."

When I reach for him, he stops me with one hand to the middle of my chest. "Drink your orange juice, first. You're gonna need the energy."

And damn, if he ain't right.

We spend the remainder of the morning exploring each other and learning what we like and don't like. Then after a brief nap and some lunch, I show him the pleasures of shower sex. Another nap, some dinner, and I teach him how to give a blow job. He enjoys it more than he expected to, which is good because then I show him the wonder that is a 69. We eventually fall asleep wrapped around each other.

Morning dawns way too bright and way too fucking early. But a quick and dirty blowjob has him wide awake and ready to learn more about the joys of gay sex.

"I don't know, Derek," he says just after lunch. "I've never-"

"I know." I take his face in my hands. "But you have to have a first time at some point, right?" He makes a noncommittal noise. "If I was a girl, if I was _Lydia_ , would you be hesitating?"

"Well, no. But that's because Lydia doesn't have a penis!"

His statement is so ridiculous that I can't stop the laugh. "It'll be fine. Just do what I said: lots of lube and a condom will help."

"If you're sure…"

"Very." I kiss his lips. "Want you inside me, Stiles."

"Okay. If it's what you want." He moves to kneel between my legs.

"Stiles?"

"Hm?" He's so focused on what he's about to do.

"Just relax and I can assure you we'll both enjoy it."

He looks up at me through his lashes. "Okay." He takes and releases a deep breath, then tugs on one ankle to get me to scoot down so he can prep me.

The instant his finger presses against me, my thoughts scatter. It's been a really long time since I've been fucked and I had forgotten how good it can be.

For all his nervousness, Stiles finds his pace quickly, and then, the bastard, figures out how to prolong it by alternating depth and speed. My orgasm, when he finally allows it to roll over me, hits me like a fucking truck and shatters my world into a million brightly colored pieces. 

It takes a really long time for my breathing and heart rate to return to normal. Once they do, I open my eyes to find him grinning down at me. If I thought his smile after our first time was cocky, I was wrong. The one he's sporting now is most definitely the very definition of a cocky grin, which makes the one from before merely a smug smirk.

I really want to be offended by the self-satisfied look on his face, but I am way too sated.

Licking my lips, I lower my lashes and whisper, "Hi."

"Hi." Little shit's voice is full of laughter. "I gather I did that right."

It's a statement, not a question, but I answer it anyway. "Since I think I passed out for a few seconds, I'd say yes."

His laughter catches me off guard. "Try fifteen minutes."

I lean up on my elbows, forcing him to move back some. "Do what now?"

"Yeah. Within a few seconds of howling, you started snoring. I had time to clean us up and get a snack."

Shaking my head, I sit up and lean back against the headboard. "That's not possible."

He shrugs his shoulders and settles next to me on the bed. "And yet, it happened." He bumps his shoulder against mine. "You, Mr. Sourwolf, were just fucked unconscious."

"It never leaves this room." I point my finger in his face.

"There's that fucking finger, again," he mutters, frowning at me.

When I raise my eyebrows, he rolls his eyes and sighs. "I promise I will not tell anyone that you passed out while I fucked you." Another snorting laugh escapes and I know the little shit's about to say something I'm not going to like. "Just kidding. You were only out for a few seconds."

I roll my own eyes and huff a sigh. "I hate you so much, right now."

The sting of his teeth on my shoulder has me flinching in surprise. "I hate you, too, Sourwolf."

"No. That's not a thing." I shake my head. "No. Nope. Nuh-uh."

"Whatever you say, Sourwolf."

"Once, Stiles. I let you do that once! A year ago." He just grins at me and I know I've lost this fight. As if I ever had a chance.

The next day is spent mostly in the front room and kitchen. I try to teach him how to bake cookies but somehow he manages to fuck it up so badly that they aren't even edible. After lunch, we end up in the hammock on the back porch. We start out reading our separate books but at some point we both doze off and that's where the Pack finds us when they come home.

After some good natured teasing about Stiles 'taming' me, we all help get dinner ready. As much as I have enjoyed this time alone with Stiles, I discover during dinner that I have missed being part of a large family.

The next couple of months are pretty close to perfect. And I know that means that something very bad is about to happen. Unfortunately for us all, I don't know just _how_ bad it's going to be.


	2. Chapter 2

As the days pass, the feeling that something bad is about to happen intensifies to the point that it has become an itch in the middle of my shoulders. It's almost as if my tattoo has become a target. And it is beyond annoying, having an itch that I can't scratch. Not to mention it has the beast pacing incessantly.

I am so on edge that I've snapped at Stiles on more than one occasion and there's always a growl building in the back of my throat.

To keep Stiles from asking questions I can't answer, I take him to bed every night and fuck him stupid. Although, what we do can't really be called 'fucking' because that's much too crude a word for the emotional connection we have. Likewise, 'have sex' is too casual. I hesitate to call it 'making love' but that's really the only phrase that even comes close to describing what we do. Not that our intimate moments aren't hard and rough, because they are, just that the emotions involved keep it from being so crude or casual as to not be called love.

After we make love, and he's fallen asleep, I get up and stand at the window, staring out at the woods, daring the evil that's lurking to show it's fucking face. But it never does.

I always make sure I'm back in bed before his alarm goes off. Some mornings he wakes me with gentle kisses that turn into us rubbing off against each other or in mutual hand jobs. Other mornings he wakes me with a blow job. Sometimes, I'm the one who wakes him with a blow job. And then there are the rare days when he doesn't wake me at all. I've learned that those mornings coincide with when he has a test at school. I hate those days because he hates taking tests so much that he's too distracted to say bye to me before leaving for school.

After the Pack leaves for school, I generally sleep for another couple of hours before rising to begin my day. I spend a few hours in the mornings going over reports for my accountants, who are perturbed that I've been so distracted of late. After lunch, and sometimes in the morning if I can't concentrate, I'll shift into wolf form and patrol the woods surrounding the house. The beast likes these times because he has most of the control. I have enough control to keep him from killing the rabbits and deer he chases. Not that I don't like the taste of rabbit and deer, just that Stiles wouldn't like it if I caught any.

Most days I'm back home and in Human form before anyone returns home. But not today. 

No, today, we were chasing a rabbit that led us to a smallish pond. The rabbit, being quicker than us, managed to turn before it would have ended up in the stagnant water. We were not so lucky. So I spent more time in the woods than usual while waiting for my coat to dry.

As I come trotting out of the woods, I can see Stiles sitting on the porch steps. His lips lift in a smile at my appearance. I don't allow him to see me in wolf form very often, despite him asking me to. Whenever I do, though, he makes sure to tell me how much he likes it. Must have something to do with wanting a puppy as a child.

"There you are!" he exclaims when I'm close enough to lick his hand.

I give a tiny bark in reply, pulling a laugh from him. My bark isn't a true bark and as such he's the only one who has ever heard it.

"I love your bark." He buries both hands in the fur around my neck. "It's too cute."

I lick his face and he laughs again. "I love you, too."

His scratching fingers make their way up to my ears and my eyes close in bliss as he finds just the right spot. The noises coming from my throat can't truly be called moans or groans; in fact, they're closer to a purr, if my vocal cords were capable of making that particular sound. He somehow always knows _just_ where to scratch me.

"That feel good?" His voice is full of humor so I nip his chin to show my displeasure at his amusement. "Okay, okay. Enough for now." He stops scratching but doesn't remove his hands from my fur. "Gonna stay shifted, huh?"

I blow a hard breath from my nose and nod my head. Then, because I can. I step up on one step and lick a spot under his chin that I nip during foreplay.

He pushes me back, all humor gone. "No. We've discussed this. Just because I find this form adorable, doesn't mean you get to take advantage." In other words, fucking a Werewolf in Human form is one thing, but fucking one fully shifted is not something he's willing to try.

Not that I was trying to start something. I just like the way he tastes, especially in that one spot.

I sit back on my haunches and lower my head, my ears flat to the sides, trying to show remorse. 

He sighs and reaches for me again. "All right. Enough of the kicked puppy routine. You're forgiven." 

I perk up and lick his face again.

"What is with you and all the licking?"

In reply, I snuffle behind his ear where I know he's ticklish. 

As expected, he hunches his shoulder and giggles, but otherwise doesn't make a move to stop me. "Okay, okay. I give."

A lick and tiny nip to the sensitive skin of his neck has him physically moving my head with one hand wrapped around my muzzle. "Enough. I get it. You're feeling a bit rowdy today."

He stares into my eyes for a long minute. If he was going to say anything else, I'll never know, because at that moment the wind shifts and his nose wrinkles as he gets a good whiff of the stench the water left behind. 

"Gross. Did you get hit by a skunk?" 

Before I can even try to reply, he answers his own question. "No. I would have smelled that sooner." He leans in and sniffs. "Did you go swimming?" 

I shake my head and step back to try and act out falling into water. 

He tilts his head, his brows wrinkled in thought. "Were you chasing a rabbit?" 

I nod and give another bark while jumping in a small circle. 

Suddenly his brows lift and his eyes open wide. "You fell into some water!" 

I bark again and do another little dance. 

"We need to get you bathed before Lydia sees you. You just know she'd insist on doing it herself."

And no one, least of all _me_ , wants that. Another bark and dance in a circle.

"Alright, c'mon. But be quiet." He gets up and leads the way into the house.

I don't normally go inside while fully shifted. Since I normally shift when I'm home alone, I can't exactly get in or out while as a wolf. And I don't like lying around while shifted. Not unless Stiles is around, that is.

Stiles opens the door just wide enough for me to slip between him and the door. I head straight up the stairs and, once in our room, go into the bathroom and the extra large shower that was just installed.

Stiles enters the bathroom completely naked, meaning there's a trail of his clothes from the bedroom door to the bathroom. Seeing him naked will always be something I enjoy and now is no exception. I dance back from the door to the shower, allowing him to enter and turn on the water.

"You know, dogs aren't supposed to like getting bathed." 

I blow a hard breath from my nose and shake my head. 

"Oh, excuse me. _Wolves_ aren't supposed to like being bathed." The smile on his face is one only I ever get to see. It's full of love and fondness for the person he's looking at.

I give a tiny growling bark and look pointedly at the knob. 

"Oh, you want me to turn on the water?" 

This time the growl is a little bit more real. 

"Behave or I'll tell Lydia."

That's a threat he's never used before but it has the desired effect: I sit down on my haunches and turn my head to face the wall opposite the showerhead.

His sigh echoes. "Really? You're going to pout?" 

I lift my chin in answer. 

"Fine."

Cold water landing directly on my back has me jumping and yelping while trying to get away from it but not being able to in the enclosed space; well, not without getting out and getting water everywhere.

His laugh under different circumstances would grate, but right now, with the wolf - when did I start thinking of the beast as the wolf again? - so fucking content it just shows how happy Stiles is.

In retaliation, I stand as close to him as I can and then I shake as hard as I can. Not that it'll do what I want, he's already wet from being in the shower, but he does still give a shout of protest.

"Okay, okay! Truce!" He holds his hands up in the universal sign of surrender.

To show there are no hard feelings, I go up on my back legs, put my front paws on his shoulders, and lick his face. 

He ruffles the fur on my sides. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Apology accepted."

Once I'm on all four feet again, he steps back so I can stand under the spray so I can get my coat wet. He grabs the bottle of dog shampoo we keep for times like this, not that there have been that many, and begins to lather me up.

I love the feel of his hands on me no matter what form I'm in and it's all I can do to not melt in ecstasy. 

"Ya like that?" 

I rest my head on his shoulder with a satisfied sigh. 

"You are so fucking easy."

I snuffle behind his ear again. 

"Okay. Enough." 

I give his ear a lick in apology. 

"Forgiven."

He washes every part of me twice before declaring me stink free. As soon as he finishes rinsing me and turns off the water, I shake as hard as I can. 

"Does that feel good?" 

I tilt my head since I can't shrug. It's not that it feels good, it's more like it's something I can't help doing. And it does help get me dry faster.

Stepping from the stall, he dries me first, then himself. Just as he's about to finish drying off, I shift back and reach out to grab his hips so I can pull him close enough for me to nuzzle around his balls.

"Derek…" He's suddenly breathless and his hands have come to rest on my damp hair.

Taking one of his balls into my mouth, I suckle gently, before moving on to the other one. A peek up his body shows his eyes heavy-lidded and his tongue slowly making its way across his lower lip. Maintaining as much eye contact as I can, I slowly lick up his length until I can suck the tip into my mouth. His breath catches in his throat and his hands tighten in my hair.

"No," he says just as I start to deep throat him. "Not where I want to come."

I pull back, only slightly upset about not being allowed to suck him off. "Then where do you want to come?"

"In your fucking ass."

Now _my_ breath catches in my throat. He doesn't ask to top very often since he prefers to have my dick in his ass and, if I'm honest, I prefer it that way too. I slowly get to my feet, then lean in and whisper against his lips, "Then fucking take me to bed."

An evil glint appears in his eyes and my cock twitches at the thought of what he could possibly have planned.

Grabbing one hand, he drags me from the bathroom to the bed where he pulls me around to stand in front of him before shoving me backward so that I fall back on the mattress before leaning up onto my elbows so I can watch what he's doing. He grabs the lube and coats just one finger which he uses to 'prep' me before pouring a very generous amount on his dick. One of his brows lifts. "You ready for this?"

The question is a valid one since he's only topped me twice since we starting fucking. I nod and stammer out an affirmative answer.

He lifts my legs and begins to push into me. I fall back onto the bed and stretch my arms over my head so that my back arches. The sting is delicious and has me panting before long.

"I thought you wanted to fuck me," I taunt, trying to get him to enter me faster.

The look he throws me has my dick twitching again and my heart skipping a beat. "So fucking impatient."

Something about his tone reminds me of when he was possessed and when he looks up at me again with a wicked grin on his face, I swear he looks just like he did when the Nogitsune was in almost total control. But then I blink and it's his usual smug smirk.

By the time he's fully embedded in my ass, my body is as taut as a bowstring and likely to snap just as easily. Urging me to wrap my legs around his waist, he leans over me to whisper against the skin of my neck, "I'd hold on if I were you." And with that as my only warning, he proceeds to pull almost all the way out before slamming back in with such force, he moves me a few inches on the bed.

I can't keep the gasps and groans from escaping at the feel of him riding me hard and fast. And when he begins to bite and suckle my nipples, it's all I can do to not grab his head and make him stop. 

The reason I don't shift fully in front of him very often is that once I shift back, my entire body is extra sensitive and I am incredibly horny. I've always been afraid that I'd force myself on him and didn't want to risk it. So I am beyond pleased to discover that my arousal has somehow affected him.

When he latches onto the corner of my jaw, I bury my hands in his hair, ever so grateful he grew out the buzz cut, and hold him there. "Stiles…" My voice breaks on his name, not that I know what else I would have said, when he bites down just as I feel him coming in my ass.

My eyes widen as I realize this is the first time we've done this without a condom. Not that we really need to use one: Weres can't get STIs and I'm the only person Stiles has ever had sex with. It's just I've _never_ had sex without one.

Stiles' body is twitching with aftershocks from his orgasm. He has his head pressed to my sternum and his breath is warm on the sweat slicked skin of my abdomen. While we try to calm our breathing, I run the fingers of one hand up and down his spine and make patterns on his shoulder with the fingers of my other hand.

He huffs a laugh when he realizes what I'm doing. "Okay, I get it. It's distracting." He lifts his head, his expression so open my heart clenches with love for him. "I was attempting to keep you from falling asleep."

"Oh, you were, huh?"

The corners of his mouth twitch as he fights a smile. "Yeah, I was."

I roll my eyes and tug him further up my body so I can roll us over. "You are so fucking full of shit, Stilinski."

"But you love me anyway."

We both freeze at his statement. I've still yet to say it. Hell, I can barely say it to myself, much less to him. But I can acknowledge his statement, so I nod my head and whisper, 'yeah' against his lips.

He bites at my lips and I bite back before pulling away to grab the lube. At his look of confusion, I stand up on my knees so he can see that I'm still fully erect since I haven't climaxed yet. And just like that, the sleepy look on his face is replaced with growing arousal. My little Human is so very fucking responsive and I love it.

I smear some lube on a couple of fingers before twisting them into him to open him up. When he begins pushing back on my fingers, I pull them out. Slipping my arms under his knees, I cradle his butt in my hands before pressing the tip of my cock against his hole. Stiles bites his lower lip at the burn of my penetration. The wolf is urging me to fuck him like he fucked me and this time I really want to. Something about him having bathed me, his hands all over my wolf body, has the need to claim my Mate cranked up to eleven.

"I can't be gentle, Stiles." Already my claws are digging into the flesh of his ass and I can feel my face starting to shift.

He gasps, his eyes open wide. "Then don't be. I can take it. I swear."

And with his permission to let go, I loosen some of my control and let the wolf have his way. But not too much because, no matter what Stiles thinks, he would not be able to handle the wolf at full strength.

The wolf, however, doesn't seem to care that I've still got most of the control. He just loves being able to fuck Stiles, to make Stiles his.

With a low growl, I pull all the way out and slam back in so hard his head snaps back, his teeth clacking together. My pace is fast and furious, more so than ever before and I've had sex with other Werewolves.

Stiles' soft cries provide the perfect counterpoint to the wolf's contented noises, and a growl builds in the back of my throat every time Stiles closes his eyes. 

"Look at me, Stiles."

He opens his eyes and the look of love in them is nearly my undoing. I was afraid that he'd be intimidated by my half shifted face but he's not. Or maybe he is but he's covering it with love.

"I love you, Derek," he whispers, reaching down and placing his hands over mine where they're gripping his ass.

His declaration has my hips stuttering, causing a shift in the angle of my thrusts which has his eyes rolling back in his head as he has another earth shattering orgasm.

The sight, smell, and feel of him coming again so soon has me throwing back my head and roaring my pleasure at the ceiling.

After an eternity, I begin to fall forward and he brings his hands up to slow my descent, can't have me just collapsing on top of him; even if he doesn't mind me laying completely on top of on him.

I tuck my head against his neck and concentrate on remembering how to breathe properly. His hands settle on my hips, drawing tiny patterns on my skin because his fingers are so completely incapable of remaining still.

"I'm sorry," I say against his skin.

He chuckles, causing my softening dick to slip out, and I shift my lower body to the side so that he can close his legs and avoid a cramp.

"No need to be. We've never fucked like that. And it was amazing."

I know he's not just talking about the lack of a condom but how raw and primal it was. It was almost as if it was a True Mating. The wolf smiles at me when that thought passes through my head and fuck if that wasn't what that was. Our first time was me staking my claim; today was Stiles staking his and then my wolf making him ours in the most primal way: the way of the Pack.

"Fuck." The soft exhalation is out before I'm even aware of it.

When I go to get up, he tightens his hold. "No, Derek."

"Stiles, please let go." I reach up and remove his hands from my shoulders.

The look on his face nearly breaks my heart. He looks like I just rejected him. And of course he'd think that; he has no idea what just went through my head.

I cup his cheek in one hand. "It's not what you think. Although I have _never_ had sex without a condom." I take and release a deep breath. "Stiles,-" I falter, unsure how to tell him that according to Pack law, we're married now. "W-what we just did…"

"What? We've fucked before. You can't say it was a mistake!"

"Stiles." I try to interrupt him.

"Or that it shouldn't have happened!"

"Stiles." I try again.

"You can't!"

"Stiles!" 

"What?" He's panicking. Does he truly think that little of me that I'd decide after all this time that we're a mistake? That I should never have had sex with him?

"It's not that, either." I look deep into his golden brown eyes and find myself getting lost, as I so often do. A sharp shove to my shoulder brings me back to the real world. "I was too rough with you. It shouldn't have happened like that." I'm not sure why I'm lying to him but something tells me that now is not the time for that conversation.

He shoves me off him so he can lean over me. "I love you, Derek Steven Hale. I'm not some wilting flower that will break when you want to go all feral and fuck me like you're dying. Am I sore? Yes. Am I unable to move? No. Did I love it? Yes! Do I want you to do it more often? Fucking hell yes!" He leans down and angrily kisses me, biting my lip as he pulls away. "You don't scare me, Sourwolf. Let go more often. You won't kill me."

My heart swells with love for this _Human_ that I have chosen to love. There are times when I think he's more Wolf than I am. A grin spreads over my face and I push him over onto his back. "If you're so sure you can take it…"

"I am. Show me whatcha got, ya big, bad wolf."

There is no way he can know just what kind of response his challenging words will get from the wolf that lives inside me. But here's hoping he doesn't regret them.  
= = = =  
The feeling of dread just keeps intensifying and has gotten to the point that even Stiles is aware of it.

Several weeks after Stiles and I form a Mate Bond, I'm brushing my teeth when Stiles slips his arms around my waist where I'm standing at the sink.

He places a kiss to the center of my tattoo before hooking his chin over my right shoulder. "Care to tell me what has you so on edge, lately?"

I meet his eyes in the mirror, then lean down to spit the toothpaste from my mouth. "No." 

I take a handful of water, swish it around, then spit it out. When I stand back up, the look on Stiles' face tells me he's not amused by my answer. Wiping my mouth on the hand towel, I turn and lean back against the counter, arms and ankles crossed. "Not because I don't want to but because I haven't a fucking clue."

"What?" He steps back and frowns at me.

I run one hand over the back of my neck. "I can't explain it, Stiles. I just have this overwhelming feeling that something extremely bad is about to happen."

"This why you've been fully shifting and patrolling the woods so much lately?"

"Yeah." I shrug. "I was hoping I'd find something in the woods. But there's been nothing. Not one single fucking thing that I can point to as the cause of this feeling."

"Is the rest of the Pack aware of this?"

I nod. "But not because I told them but not you. They feel it too because they're either supernatural themselves or trained to hunt the supernatural."

"So what you're saying is that I'm too oblivious to have noticed that anything was wrong." Stiles wears his every emotion on his face and the hurt look has - always will have - the power to make me feel super guilty even when I didn't do anything wrong.

"No, Stiles. That's not what I'm saying at all. You haven't been around the supernatural as long as Allison and you don't have supernaturally enhanced senses like the rest of us, that's all."

"But you didn't tell me anything was wrong." His hurt tone cuts through me like a knife. "Do Danny and Mason know?" He makes a noise in the back of his throat and slashes his hand in the air when I start to speak. "I bet they do because their Mates tell them things like this!"

I take and release a deep breath. "Stiles,-" I reach for him but he twists away from me. "-I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry if it turned out to be nothing. Which it has."

"So far."

I have to keep reminding myself that I love him. "Yeah, so far there's been nothing to explain this feeling." Reaching out, I finally manage to grab his arms and pull him close. "And I see no reason for it to change. If it does, I promise I will tell you just as soon as I can."

"Okay." He leans in and presses his lips to mine. "Will you fuck me now?"

"With pleasure." My fangs and claws pop out as I 'chase' Stiles to the bed.  
= = = =  
In the nearly two months since I first kissed Stiles, the wolf has been getting increasingly agitated, with today being the worst since we first laid eyes on Stiles.

I've been standing at the window, staring out at the woods per my new nightly routine. But this time, instead of crawling back into bed in the moments before dawn, I've been standing here long enough for the sun's first faint rays to begin peeking over the tops of the trees.

With a start, I realize that Stiles' alarm will be going off any moment now. I rub at my eyes and turn to climb under the covers where I curl around his sleep-warmed body. Sleep begins tugging at me and just as I begin to fall into it, his alarm goes off.

Now that I'm more awake than asleep, I notice that he doesn't even attempt to wake me; just slaps at his phone until the buzzing stops. He then lays there for one minute, two minutes, three minutes. Then with a huge sigh, he throws back the covers and gets out of bed.

Opening one eye, I watch his naked backside as he pads softly across the room to the bathroom where he proceeds to close the door. He hasn't closed the bathroom door since we started having sex. This is a troublesome development but one that I won't be making heads or tails of at this time because sleep is once again trying to draw me under.

I'm nearly there, again, when I hear him exit the bathroom and begin dressing. He's trying to be quiet and this is another thing that worries me. Even when he doesn't wake me, he's never this quiet in the mornings. Not that he's overly loud, just that he doesn't try to hide the fact that he's awake while I'm trying to sleep.

I want to sit up and question him about it but sleep is just too much of a temptation right now. The last thing I'm aware of for several hours is the soft click of our bedroom door closing behind him.  
= = = =  
The wolf wakes me with his near constant growling and pacing, demanding I get up and _do something_. In an effort to get him to settle, I fully shift and spend most of the day in the woods chasing rabbits, deer, and the occasional squirrel, and swimming in the nearby lake.

When I come trotting out of the woods in the late afternoon, I half expect Stiles to be sitting on the porch steps waiting for me. But then I remember that today the coach had planned on an extra long cross country practice even though the season has been over for about a week.

Once on the porch, I shake as hard as I can to get any debris out of my fur and then shift back. Reaching into the hidden storage under the bench seat, I quickly get dressed then head inside.

While the members of the Pack who play lacrosse, and therefore run cross country, aren't expected home for an hour or so, the rest should be here but there's absolute silence in the house. Frowning, I investigate and find that there is no evidence that anyone came home while I was out.

I'm starting to get super concerned, it's not like them to not let me know if they're gonna be late. Running upstairs, I grab my phone and start trying to call everyone to find out where they are. But everyone's phones are going to voicemail.

With a growl, I almost throw my phone against the wall but settle for something not breakable: the lacrosse ball Stiles left on our dresser. It bounces off the wall and I barely manage to avoid getting hit in the head when it bounces back at me.

But it felt good, so I retrieve the ball and do it again, making sure I throw it at an angle that has it bouncing back at me so I can catch it.

I'm not sure how long I've been throwing the ball when I hear Lydia's car pull up. Remembering that she won't appreciate being attacked as soon as she enters the house, I jog down the stairs and wait for her to come inside.

Which she does extremely slowly. The second she enters the house I can smell her tears.

"Lydia?" When she looks up, the expression on her face has the bottom of my stomach dropping out. "What's happened?"

She presses her lips together and shakes her head, a sob bubbling up and out. "Oh, Derek." With a cry that is in no way even close to her banshee scream, thank God, she starts to crumble. I manage to catch her just before she would have hit the floor. 

"Tell me, Lydia. What's happened?"

"It's Stiles."

"What about Stiles?" She just cries harder. "Lydia, where's Stiles?"

She shakes her head. "We don't know."


	3. Chapter 3

"What do you mean, you don't know?" The wolf has begun to growl and snap his jaws and I'm just barely able to hold him back. "He was at cross country practice."

"And he never made it back to the locker room."

"How long?"

She bows her head, her slender frame racking with her sobs. "Couple of hours."

I grab her upper arms and hold her up where I can get in her face. "Stiles has been missing for a couple of hours and you _just now_ decided to come and tell me?"

She shakes her head. "No. Scott just now told me."

The low menacing growl is out before I can stop it. Lydia flinches, her breath catching on a gasp.

"Derek, you're hurting me!"

A look down shows that my fingers are white-knuckled and the tender flesh of her upper arms is already starting to form angry bruises.

I let her go with a slight shove and climb unsteadily to my feet. The thought of someone doing who knows what to Stiles makes my world spin. In my attempt to make it to the couch, my legs give out prematurely and I collide with the wall before sliding to the floor where I curl into a ball and do my level best to stop the rising panic attack.

"Derek?" Lydia's small hand reaches out but she stops short of touching me. "Scott and the others are looking for him."

"I should…" Using the wall for support, I pull myself to my feet. "I should…" 

When I take a step toward the door, Lydia is suddenly there, blocking my path. "Get out of my way, Lydia."

"No." She places both hands on my shoulders and pushes.

Normally she wouldn't be able to budge me an inch but today - today she manages to push me back a half step.

"You need to stay here."

Her statement snaps me out of whatever trance I'm under. "What I _need_ , is to find my fucking Mate!"

I feel my face start to shift. Getting in her face, I snarl and growl low in my throat. She straightens to her full height and glares right back at me. 

"You don't frighten me, Derek Hale." Even if I couldn't smell her fear, I'd know she was lying from the way her voice trembles.

"Lydia…" I may not be the Alpha anymore but I can still use a commanding tone.

"Don't you 'Lydia' me." She crosses her arms over her chest and tilts her chin up. "Do you trust me?"

It's a question that only Scott and Stiles have ever asked me and I have to force myself to stop for half a minute to think. _Do_ I trust her? And of course, there is only one answer: "With his life."

She nods when I step back out of her personal space and breathes a soft sigh of relief. "Then trust what I'm saying."

I nod my understanding. She's telling me, in her own banshee way, that as of this moment in time, Stiles is alive.

"Scott said he'd call soon with an update." As soon as the words leave her mouth, her phone beeps.

A quick look at the screen has her pressing her lips together. The wolf doesn't like the way her worry amps up.

"What?" I take half a step closer and she retreats a full step, her fear returning.

"Scott said they checked all the places they thought he might be based on who they suspect has him."

"And?" I prompt when she doesn't continue.

"You're not gonna like it."

I lower my head and concentrate on not shifting. "Yeah, I'm sure I won't. Just like I'm sure I know the answer so just fucking say it!"

"They didn't find anything. They're widening the search area and will check in again in an hour."

My hands curl into fists, my claws digging deep into my palms. The pain is a welcome distraction from the fear and worry. The wolf is pacing circles and howling mournfully.

With the need to do something building like an itch under my skin, I stalk to the front room where I have the proper room to pace much like the wolf is. While the movement is helping, somewhat, it's not quite enough and I'm going to start destroying things if Stiles isn't found soon.

I want to be out looking for him with the rest of the Pack, but Lydia keeps insisting that I stay here. And even though I've learned that when Lydia says that she has a 'hunch' she's usually correct, especially when it's about Stiles, it's almost a physical pain, being this utterly useless in the search for my Mate. But I trust Scott to find him and bring him home.

"You're going to wear a hole in the floor." Lydia's voice is full of humor, proving that she's overcome her initial fear of me.

"He's still missing, Lydia." Even though I know she's trying to calm me, as well as remind me that she hasn't sensed any deaths recently, I can't stop pacing. I need to do something since I can't be out searching.

"I'm aware of that, Derek. Doesn't make my statement any less true." I can hear her eye roll. "If you don't calm down-" The rest of her sentence is cut off by the perimeter alarm.

I sprint past her to the front door. Throwing it open, I cross the porch to the stairs in one stride where I come to a stop and scan the tree line. I can smell Stiles. His scent is covered by other Humans, more than if he was just at cross country practice. And that, coupled with his fear, has my lip curling in renewed anger. Someone is going to fucking die for daring to put their fucking hands on _my_ Mate.

A growl starts to build low in my throat because I can't see Stiles and his scent is _so fucking close_. I'm about to head into the woods to look for him when Lydia's small hand lands on my forearm. Just as I begin to shake it off, her soft gasp has me noticing movement about halfway between the tree line and the house. The figure that is attempting to crawl across the yard is so covered in mud that they are nearly indistinguishable from the ground beneath them.

It takes a couple of seconds for me to realize it's Stiles and as soon as I do his name leaves my lips in a whimper that is as broken and bruised as I'm sure his body is. And then I'm jumping off the porch and crossing the distance between us in just a few steps. My legs refuse to continue to obey my commands once I reach his side and I hit the ground _hard_ on my knees.

"Stiles," I say again in a voice that isn't much stronger than a moment ago. He flinches when I reach for him and I vow that the bastards who did this will suffer before they die.

I do my best to be gentle when I grasp his shoulders to help him sit up, but he still whimpers softly. I don't want to hurt him, but I need to see the extent of his injuries. I need to know even though I don't want to.

"It's alright, Stiles. You're safe now. I got you." I keep my voice as low and soothing as I can but even so, he still flinches a little.

Once I have him on his knees, I try to duck my head to see his face, but he refuses to lift it. So, I wrap my right hand around his neck, my thumb under his jaw. It's a familiar position and usually calms him. But not this time.

No, this time it seems to upset him even more but I need to see his face, so I press against the underside of his jaw. He resists at first, wrapping his hands around my wrist and tugging, but I'm insistent and, with a wounded sound that has the wolf ready to rip someone to shreds, he slowly gives in.

The first thing I see, as his head lifts, is the bruise that is beginning to form around his left eye. The second is the scrape that begins at the outer corner of that eye and follows his cheekbone to stop just shy of his mouth; his fucking kissable mouth. A mouth that I love to explore with my tongue. A mouth that has gotten him into just as much trouble as it’s gotten him out of. 

Pulling my thoughts back from all the wonderful things that mouth can do, I notice that his lower lip is split. Kissing will be painful for a few days but damned if that'll stop me from kissing him.

I'm so totally focused on his lips that his tongue darting out to push against the cut, testing to see just how much it has healed, has me blinking and recalling just where we are.

"Stiles." Again, my voice breaks on his name. How has this Human teenager come to mean so much to me?

It feels like not that long ago I was fighting my growing attraction to him. Not even him being my Mate could get me over the hurdle that was his age and the fact that he's the sheriff's son.

In the nearly two years since I woke from nearly dying after being poisoned, to find him straddling me about to slap me to try and wake me, he has worked his way into my heart and my bed and now I'd be completely lost without him.

And now he's been hurt because of me. I should send him back to his father.

His eyes snap up to meet mine and I realize that I said that last out loud. "Stiles-" I have no idea what to say to stop the tears I can see gathering in his eyes.

"Maybe I've finally learn my lesson, huh? Not everyone likes my sarcasm. Fun fact, sometimes it's just fucking inappropriate."

"Stiles-" My vocabulary seems to have dwindled to just his name.

"I mean, being Human, it's my only natural defense but some people obviously don't appreciate it. More's the pity."

"Stiles." My heart has taken up permanent residence in my throat but it's nice to know that despite his flinching at my touch that this ordeal hasn't damaged the thing I love most about him.

"Not one single fucking question! I am hugely insulted, here. I mean, I'm a True Alpha's best friend and Derek Hale's boyfriend. They could have used me to cause some serious damage, but noooooo! They just wanted to use me as a punching bag." 

A laugh is threatening to burst from my mouth when he collapses into my arms, having finally lost the battle with his ability to hide how this has affected him.

I gather him to me and gently stroke his back, pressing my face into his hair where his scent is strongest. After a minute or two, I gather him up into my arms to carry him inside because we're too exposed out here in the open. Especially with Lydia as our only backup.

"Derek," Lydia says when I pass her on the porch.

"Not now, Lydia. Secure the house and call the others back."

When I arrive at our room, I don't even pause, just carry him on into the bathroom. He needs a bath and then he needs to get some sleep. And I intend to make sure he gets both.

Setting him down on the edge of the Jacuzzi tub, I turn the water on and adjust it to the correct temperature.

"Derek." His breath catches on a suppressed sob.

"Shut up, Stiles."

Once the water is filling the tub, I kneel at his feet to attack the mud-caked laces of his shoes.

"Derek." He tries again.

"I said be quiet, Stiles." My voice is much harsher than I intend due to me choking on my obvious impotence and anger at letting him get hurt.

"Derek!" The sharpness of his tone makes me aware that my claws are fumbling with his laces.

Curling my hands into fists, I let the pain ground me while I take several deep breaths to try and calm myself down. Once I'm fairly certain I can touch him without telegraphing my emotions, I wrap my hands around his calves and press my forehead against his knees.

"I'm sorry." The words are so soft I'm not sure his Human ears can hear them, so I say them again, louder. "I am so fucking sorry."

He fists his hands in my hair, tugging slightly in a silent plea for me to raise my head. When I do, I discover that his cheeks are wet with tears that are flowing freely down them.

"No. _I'm_ sorry."

"What do you have to be sorry about?" 

"That you're stuck with _me_." He sniffs and scrubs at his cheeks with one fist.

Placing my hands on his knees, I slide them up under the loose legs of his shorts. How could he think that? No one could be more perfect for me.

"Why do you say that?"

"I'm Human. I tend to ramble when nervous or scared. Which, let's be honest, is most of the time. One day I'll inadvertently betray you. You should-" He has to stop to choke back a sob. "-send me back to my dad."

I shake my head and lay it in his lap. "Oh, Stiles. I tried that before and you wouldn't stay away."

He gives a bark of laughter at the memory of when he moved himself in on his eighteenth birthday. I promptly carried him back to the sheriff's house, only to have him show back up the next morning. He just kept coming back for two weeks until everyone, even his dad, told me I might as well let him stay. So, I did.

"But that won't stop them from hurting you because of me."

"They don't know about us."

I lift my head to look at him. "Of course, they do. Why else would they abduct a Human and-" I touch the scrape on his cheek. "-try to beat information out of him?"

"But they didn't ask me anything."

"They didn't?"

He shakes his head, a small smile on his face. "Just tied me to a chair and stared at me. Until I opened my mouth, that is. After every snarky comment, they punished me with a fist to the face or gut."

"Maybe I should teach you some self-defense moves."

His smile widens into a grin and, with a waggle of his eyebrows, his tongue darts out to lick at the blood that has started to seep from where the cut reopened.

"Don't." I reach up with my fingers and push his tongue back into his mouth.

"Why? Everyone does it. It'll still heal, might take a day or two longer, but it'll heal."

"It makes me want to kiss you."

He smirks, causing the cut to open further. "So, kiss me."

I shake my head. "You're injured, Stiles."

He rolls his eyes. "So? Kiss me, Derek." His eyes are begging me to show him that I still want him. But I can't take up that challenge. He could have internal injuries.

With a sigh, I push his knees further apart, so I can lean in and press my lips lightly to his.

He makes a noise of disgust in the back of his throat. "I said: _Kiss_. _Me_ , Derek."

"I don't want to hurt you."

He snorts. "Couldn't if you tried. Now, kiss. Me." He grabs my head and seals his mouth to mine, his tongue sweeping in to rub dirty promises against mine. I moan low in my throat and follow his tongue back into his mouth with mine.

Eventually, we need to breathe, so I pull back, capturing his lower lip between my teeth and pressing against the cut with my tongue. His breath catches for a very different reason this time and I know that if I wanted, I could fuck him right here on the floor of our bathroom.

The situation is so very similar to our first kiss that I can't help thinking about it. It happened nearly two months ago; two weeks after I agreed to let him move in. And was the first time I realized that he would let me do almost anything I want to him.

A rather rough shove to my shoulder has me coming back to the present where I'm kneeling between his knees on the tile floor of our bathroom. He says my name with a chuckle as if he's said it several times.

"You just can't shut the fuck up, can you, Stiles?"

He huffs but the grin on his face tells me he's not offended in the least. "If you don't mind the house getting flooded, then fine by me." He shrugs.

"Fuck." I jump up and turn off the water as well as pull the plug to drain the tub.

"But, I thought-" His sentence is interrupted by a yawn.

"Mmhm." I snicker and resume my place at his feet. "You're exhausted. A shower will be quicker."

"Uh-huh. You just want to get me into bed. As if you can't fuck me in the tub."

The memory of the only time I've ever tried to have sex in the bathtub has me laughing. "Right. Because it worked so well the last time."

"It would have if you hadn't filled it so full!" His laugh just makes me laugh even more and the open joy on his face has me pressing another kiss to his smiling lips.

Words I've yet to say to him hover on my lips and I know that now would be the perfect time to say them but still, something holds me back, keeps me from saying them.

With one last nip to his upper lip, I return my attention to his mud-encrusted laces. Using my claws to pick off enough of the mud to untie them, I eventually get his shoes and socks off. Turning my attention to his shirt, I'm not sure I want to see the condition of his torso. But I know I have to. 

Once his shirt is off and I can see the huge bruise covering the whole left side of his torso from his nipple to his navel, the rage begins building again. I can feel the growl rumbling deep inside and if the men who did this were in front of me right now, I'd take great pleasure in ripping them to shreds.

"Tell me their names."

"No, they. It was just one guy."

"And since when can you not talk your way out from one guy?"

He snorts. "Because he had me tied to a chair. Remember I said that just a minute ago?"

" _Who_ was it, Stiles?"

"Can we discuss that later, Derek? Please?" I force my gaze from the evidence that someone was stupid enough to harm my Mate up to his face where I can see just exactly how tired he is. His eyes are heavy-lidded, and exhaustion is evident in every line of his body. And now I feel like an ass for interrogating him when he's obviously dead on his feet.

"Sure. Let's get you cleaned up and tucked into bed." Getting to my feet, I pull him up. "I'm sure you can finish undressing on your own?"

He nods and leans in enough to press a kiss to my lips. It takes every ounce of my resolve to not pull him in for a deeper one.

Turning from the enticing body before me, I strip off my clothes before stepping into the shower and turning it on to the temperature and pressure he prefers.

Even though he doesn't need to, he puts his hand on my back to alert me he's joined me in the shower. I pull him around in front of me where I bury my hands in his hair and lift it so that water can get all the way down to the roots before grabbing his shampoo and lathering the fuck out of it. All of a sudden, the mud covering him upsets me and it must be removed as quickly as possible.

"So," his voice is a soft purr, he loves when I bathe him; especially when I wash his hair. It's always guaranteed to make him go boneless. "Where'd you go?"

"Hm?" I'm so caught up in rinsing the muddy shampoo from his hair that I'm only half-listening to what he's saying.

"A few minutes ago." He pokes me in the chest to get my attention. "After you kissed me."

He licks at the cut on his lip again and I barely keep a groan from escaping. "I was thinking of the first time we kissed."

"Oh, yeah?" He grins and for just a moment his fatigue is replaced with a soft look of remembrance.

"Yeah. It was a good kiss."

He huffs a faux offended breath. "It was a _great_ fucking kiss, asshole."

I can't help but laugh in his face. "It was one for the ages. Or some sappy rom-com." I shrug one shoulder and move on to washing his body, being careful of the bruise on his torso.

"I was hurt that you didn't fuck me that night."

"I know." This has been a huge bone of contention between us; one we've never really discussed.

Looking deep into his eyes, I can tell that he will fight sleep until we have this conversation. He doesn't give a shit if it's the right time or place, he's done with feeling insecure about me and his place in my life. And if I'm honest, even if only to myself, I'm tired of keeping my feelings from him.

"You want to have this conversation now?"

"It's beyond time, don'tcha think?" 

I chew on the inside of my cheek and nod. "Yeah. Okay."

Turning off the water, I step from the shower and throw him a towel before using one to dry myself off.

In our room, I pull on a pair of sleep pants and start pacing a circle at the foot of the bed. Stiles, that fucking tease, exits the bathroom while wrapping his towel around his waist.

I pause and raise one brow. "Seriously?"

He shrugs one shoulder. "What? I'm tired. As soon as we're done talking I plan on falling face first into that bed." He nods his head in the direction of our bed.

"You don't have to sleep naked, you know."

The grin that spreads across his face can only be described as evil. "True. But the first time I did, you fucked me stupid. Plus, this way you don't have to undress me when you want to fuck me later."

I make a frustrated noise in the back of my throat and both of his brows climb his forehead. "Are you going to deny it?"

Narrowing my eyes on his face, I mutter, "Smartass."

He has the audacity to wink at me and blow me an air kiss.

I swear to God... if I didn't love him so fucking much…

I clear my throat and decide to just jump in with both feet. "I love you, Stiles. I am so deeply in love with you that it feels like there's never been a time when I _wasn't_ in love with you. And that fucking scares me." I take a deep breath but it doesn't help, my breathing is too fast and I know I'm on the verge of having a panic attack. 

" _You_ scare me, Stiles. The reason I've been reluctant to tell you that I love you is because to do so gives you a fucking lot of power over me. See, you now have the power to destroy me with a word, a look, a fucking _deed_. And that's not something I can allow. I have to be strong. I can't let someone have that ability." I run out of words and I can feel tears stinging my eyes but I refuse to let them fall.

"God, Derek." Stiles takes a step toward me, one hand raised so he can touch me but I take a hasty step back. "You don't get it, do you?" I frown at him and he chuckles softly. "I've always had that power even if I didn't know it. That's what love is; being vulnerable to another person. But that's also what makes you strong. Having someone in your life who can destroy you but who builds you up instead? It's a rush."

Shaking my head, I being pacing again. "No, you don't get it, Stiles. I love you more than I ever loved Paige. And I _killed_ her. I had to."

Somehow he manages to step into my path and I stop just inches from him. "I do get it, Derek. You see, I used to think I was in love with Lydia. But I wasn't. And I didn't know that until I met you. Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm not saying I knew I was in love with you right then. But you did pull my focus from her which is something no one else was able to do. Over time, I came to realize that I'm in love with you and what I felt for Lydia was just a schoolyard crush."

Looking into his eyes, I can see I need to give him my complete truth even though I know it will hurt him. "There's more."

He rolls his eyes. "Of course there is."

I can't help the small smile at the sarcastic tone. "That night when we first kissed-" My words dry up at the memory of my panicked flight out of Beacon Hills. "I realized then that I'm in love with you and it terrified me. The thought that I'm in love with a teenager-" I shake my head.

"I also realized that our relationship is the most stable one I've had with someone I'm not related to since Paige. I had to get away before my heart, and yours, became even more attached."

"That's why you left?"

I nod. "I had no intention of ever coming back. I was going to send Scott a letter telling him everything he needed to know to keep the house."

"But?"

"You're a perceptive little shit, you know that?"

He smirks at me and wiggles his eyebrows. "But you love me."

With a sigh, I give in. "Yes, Stiles, I love you."

"That's all you had to say." He steps closer and presses a kiss to my lips before turning, dropping the towel, and climbing into the bed.

"That's it? You're not going to ask what made me come back?"

"Is the reason anything other than you realized that your life sucks without me?"

A low growl escapes and for the first time since choosing Stiles, the wolf is agitated by him. "No. But I do have more."

He leans up on his elbows. "Really?" I nod. "Is it super important?"

"Yes."

Something in either my face or my voice alerts him that this is extremely serious and all hints of his playful nature are gone as he gets out of bed and wraps the towel around his waist again.

"Okay. I'm listening."

I take another deep breath and again give him my full truth. "The reason I resisted you for so long is because of the wolf side of me. I know we joke about that, but the fact is that he's real; the wolf, the _beast_ , that is the real me. He lives deep inside and I barely have control over him on a good day. And the day we met was far from a good day."

The look on his face is heart-wrenching, so I begin pacing again just so I don't have to look at it. "When I first laid eyes on you, he sat up and chose you; he decided that one day you would be ours. I knew you were too young, but that's really all I knew at that point. When I found out you were the sheriff's son-" A humorless chuckle escapes.

"I did my best to stay away from you while helping Scott, but neither one of you would let me keep that distance because you're apparently a package deal. And the wolf, he decided that that meant that you felt the same. But, again, I _couldn't_ , Stiles. I couldn't let myself accept what I knew to be true.

"And then came the day I got poisoned. If you hadn't balked at cutting off my arm, I would have died. If not from the poison, then probably from blood loss because the poison was affecting my healing ability and it just might have prevented me from healing even after the amputation.

"When I woke up and saw you straddling me-" I press the heels of my hands against my eyes as I remember being awakened by his scent more than his fist against my jaw and feeling the wolf straining to get to him. "Let's just say that if I didn't have the control I do, you would have lost your virginity much sooner and it would have been a hell of a lot rougher than the way you did lose it. And I wouldn't have cared that Scott would have been a witness to it."

"Are you saying you would have raped me?"

I drop my head to stare at the floor. "Yes."

"Derek-"

"NO, Stiles! Don't try to make it something it wasn't. The wolf has laid claim to you and at that particular moment in time, he would have done anything to have you. He thinks you belong to us; has thought it from the very second I laid eyes on you."

"Derek." He has, once again, managed to get in front of me without my being aware of it. 

When I raise my head all I can see is love shining from his eyes. "I've been in love with you since that day, too. Only I realized it sooner than you did. And as for the wolf,-" He taps on my chest right over my heart. "-I have belonged to him since that day, too."

My breath catches in my throat as the meaning of his words hits me. He's not scared off by my rough side. If anything, I feel that he welcomes it and loves me because of it.

"He doesn't scare you?"

"Why would he? He's you, is he not?"

I nod and the tears finally begin to fall. "He's the part I hate."

"Why?" He places one hand gently on my face, wiping away my tears with his thumb.

"Because he's the one who killed Paige. He's the one who killed Peter despite knowing that Scott didn't want this life. He's the one who wanted to be the Alpha."

"But not now."

"No. Now he just wants you."

"Good." I frown at him and he chuckles. "Because I want him, too." He leans in and kisses me gently. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to sleep. Please let me have a couple of hours before you wake me to have sex."

I laugh. "I'll try."

He throws me a sleepy smile over his shoulder before dropping the towel again and climbing back under the covers.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last completed chapter. I'm working on chapter five as often as I can but work is crazy right now.

Several hours after I crawl under the covers, the squeaking of one of the downstairs floorboards wakes me. I hold my breath and wait to hear it again. _There_. Whoever it is, is headed toward my office.

Taking care to not wake Stiles, I slip from the bed and make my way downstairs, being careful to avoid the spots that squeak.

My claws extend from my fingertips as I stalk the intruder in my office. Just as I reach the patch of golden light spilling out of the open door, I catch the person's scent. It's one I know. Or at least it's similar to one I know intimately.

Stepping inside my office, I quietly close the door behind me before addressing my late night visitor. "By all means, Sheriff, let yourself in and help yourself to my twenty-eight year-old Scotch."

"Thanks. Don't mind if I do." He pours a measure of the amber colored liquid into a glass and tosses it back like it's water. He then pours some more and takes a sip before setting the decanter back on the cabinet and replacing the stopper. 

"He's my son," he says, turning to face me.

I don't even have to ask what he's talking about. "I know. But I'm not the Alpha. I don't make the decisions."

"But he's your boyfriend." Stilinski sits on the edge of my desk as if his legs refuse to hold his weight for another second.

"He's actually more than just my boyfriend. But, again, I don't make the decisions. You'll have to talk to Scott about it."

"I almost lost him today." He takes a gulp of the Scotch in his glass. "He's all I have left, Derek."

I know exactly how he feels. Two years ago I thought I was all alone after Peter killed Laura.

"I know, Sheriff."

"John." His voice is so soft, I almost don't hear him.

"Excuse me?"

"John. My name is John."

"I thought your name was Noah."

He rolls his eyes in a near perfect imitation of Stiles. "It's Janusz Noah. I prefer John since it's easier for people to pronounce. Claudia called me Noah because she knew how much I hate it. She and Melissa had been friends since they were children."

"Ah."

He empties the glass and sets it on the desk with a thump. "What'd you mean when you said he's more than your boyfriend?"

I cross my arms over my chest and settle my weight on my heels. "He's my Mate."

John squints at me in the low light of the desk lamp. "If that means what I think it means, he can't give you children."

"I don't require pu- children from him."

The stench of anger flares briefly. "You'd impregnate some woman and expect him to accept and raise the child?"

"If our Alpha demanded it of me, yes. But since our Alpha is his best friend, I don't see that happening."

He blinks at me. "I'm confused."

I bite my lips to stifle my laughter. "The Alpha dictates who can and cannot Mate and have children. Scott is not the type of Alpha to impose any restrictions on his Betas."

"So, how do you plan to have children?"

" _If_ Stiles and I decide to become fathers, we'll probably use a surrogate."

"Oh." His shoulders slump as if he's run out of topics to distract him from his reason for being here in the middle of the night.

"How is he?"

"Bruised but fine."

The look he gives me says he doesn't totally believe me.

Truth time. "There's a slight hitch to his breathing which means at least bruised ribs. They could be cracked but I doubt it. He has a scrape on his left cheek, a black eye, and a split lip."

He regards me with an expressionless stare. "You don't sense any major injuries?"

I shake my head. "No, sir. Trust me, if I thought he was seriously injured, I would have taken him to the hospital instead of upstairs when he showed up."

John's brows lower in a frown of confusion. "What do you mean 'when he showed up'?"

"Not sure which part of my statement is tripping you up," I say with a shrug. "But he rescued himself."

He blinks at me. "You-" He points a finger at me. "-have been spending too much time with my son." 

I just give him a toothy grin which has him rolling his eyes.

"He say anything?"

"No. And I did ask. He didn't want to discuss it at that moment and I was still trying to find my footing after the scare of almost losing him. And then he distracted me by insisting we have a _very_ different discussion."

John tilts his head as if in thought and then one brow lifts. "He made you talk about your _feelings_!?"

A noise on the other side of the door has me lifting a finger to my lips in a request for silence. The scent coming through the thick wood is like a balm to my still raw nerves.

Taking a half step back, I wrap my hand around the knob before suddenly twisting it and allowing Stiles' weight to push it open. He comes tripping inside, his eyes wide and a slight blush competing with the redness of the bruises on his face.

"Oh, um…" He grins sheepishly at his father and me. "Hi, Dad." One hand rises in a small wave.

"What are you doing up?" My voice is rougher than I intend and he flinches.

"I woke and you were gone."

"So you came looking for me?"

He drops his gaze to the floor and that's when I smell it. On top of his natural scent is the smell of terror. He tackles fearful things without blinking so often that I forget he's Human and little more than a pup.

Reaching out, I pull him to me, encouraging him to hide in my embrace. "I'm sorry I wasn't there," I whisper into his hair.

The reason for his terror reminds me that I want to talk to John about it. "Your dad and I still have a few things to talk about. Go back to our room. I'll be up soon."

"But _first_ -" John's voice is every inch the worried father. "-let me see."

Stiles steps back out of my arms and turns to face his dad. "It's really not as bad as it looks."

"I don't know, Stiles," John says, lifting Stiles' head so he can see the bruises better. "It looks pretty bad."

There's a slight scuffle when John tries to lift Stiles' shirt to see his torso; a scuffle that John wins, of course.

"Really, Dad. It's not that ba-" His last word is cut off by a pained gasp when John presses on the bruise covering his upper body.

"Not too bad, he says, while gasping in pain."

"Yeah, because you pressed on it. Of course it hurts! It's a fucking bruise!"

I've never heard Stiles speak to his father like this and all I can do is blink at him.

"You watch your tone." John shakes a finger in Stiles' face.

One of Stiles' brows lifts and he crosses his arms over his chest. "Or what? You'll ground me? News flash, I don't live in your house any longer."

"I am still your father. You will speak to me with the proper respect."

And that's a sentence I never thought I'd ever hear John say. He has always come across as the type of parent who doesn't demand respect from his pups just because he's their dad.

"Sorry. I'm in pain and exhausted."

John accepts his apology with a nod of his head. "Okay. Get some sleep. And come by the station in the morning."

"Why?" Stiles' brows are furrowed.

"To give your statement and a description."

Stiles begins shaking his head before John even finishes speaking. "I'm not pressing charges."

"What!?" John and I say at the same time.

Stiles looks nervously between us. 

"Why?" John's growl is deep enough to have the wolf sitting down and paying attention much like when Scott reminds us he's the Alpha.

"Because I don't want to."

"Stiles." I step closer, my voice soft. "If they threatened you-"

He shakes his head and in the low light, I catch the glint of tears in his eyes. "I said no."

"These men _hurt_ you." I feel my fangs extend at just the thought.

"So?" His chin tilts up stubbornly. "It's my choice and I chose not to."

I share a look with John, telling him silently that I'll get him to change his mind.

With a sigh, I say, "Fine. Now, go on. I'll be up soon."

"Not a damsel in some cheesy romance novel, Derek."

"Never said you were."

"You and Dad were talking about me without me. And now you're sending me to bed so you can continue to talk about me."

I duck my head while trying to figure out how to tell him it's not what he thinks - because it's not - without telling him what it's really about.

"Stiles, it's not what you think. Truly." I glance at John and find only concern in his blue eyes. "My own father died when I was ten. I don't have anyone to go to for fatherly advice."

Stiles blinks at me. "Oh." He looks at his dad. "Of course I'll share him with you."

He turns back to me and with a soft chuckle, leans in for a soft, chaste kiss before leaving the room, the door clicking softly closed behind him.

When John opens his mouth, I hold up a finger, listening to make sure Stiles isn't eavesdropping again. Once I'm sure he's gone upstairs, I give a nod and head over to the little sitting area. John takes one chair and I take the other.

"So…" he prompts when I don't speak right away.

I find that I'm at a loss for words, now that the time has come to ask my questions. Rubbing my hands on my legs, I take a deep breath and decide to just go for it. "So, um…" I blow out a hard breath and flop back in my chair. "Nightmares."

"What?" John asks. "Want to start your thought at the beginning?"

I chuckle humorlessly. "I think he had one tonight. That's why he came looking for me. Are they a new thing or…"

Realization dawns on John's face. "He had them for a while after Claudia."

"Was he in the room?" If he was, it would explain a whole hell of a lot.

He nods. "Holding her hand. When the doctors and nurses rushed in, he was shoved out of the way."

"Fuck!" The wolf snarls at the way ten year-old Stiles was treated.

"Yeah." John's voice is small and thick with remembered pain. "He saw more than he should have."

I press the heels of my hands against my eyes in an attempt to forestall the hot tears of anger that are building behind my lids.

"I took him to a therapist. It seemed to work until…" When he pauses, my brain supplies the missing words: until he was possessed by the Nogitsune.

He takes a shuddering breath. "He dreamed that he was dead. That we all were. He would scream himself awake and once I'd calmed him, he'd count our fingers."

"Shit." It's much worse than I thought. "Why wouldn't he say anything?"

"He thought he was going insane. He didn't want to be sent back to Eichen House."

"Understandable."

We fall silent for a long moment before the wolf urges me to just say the rest of it.

"This might not have been the first time he's had one since moving in." John just raises one brow. "When he'd been here for five days I caught him crawling into my bed."

He smiles sadly and nods. "Yeah. I'd have to hold him until he fell back to sleep."

Well, that explains that. "He didn't say anything about why he was sneaking into my bed. I really wish he had." My lips twist at the bitter memory of how I yelled at him that night.

"A couple of weeks later, I left for a few days and when I got back he had kicked the covers to the floor. When I asked, he said he might have had a bad dream. I gather his nightmares are violent."

"Yeah. I got more than one black eye trying to calm him."

"I bet that was fun to explain to your deputies."

"I didn't even try. And they didn't ask. Wouldn't surprise me if they thought that Stiles and I had gotten into a knockdown, drag-out fight."

We slip into yet another awkward silence, then just before I call it a night, he says, "Wait, you said you left for a few days a couple of weeks after his first nightmare."

I sigh heavily and stare down at where I have my hands clasped over my belly. "Was hoping you'd missed that."

He chuckles. "Not likely, son."

When I glance over at him, his expression clearly says 'I'm the sheriff for a reason'. I nod in agreement and brace myself for telling him even more of my truth.

"We had kissed for the first time. It was one of, if not _the_ , best kisses of my life. I had a major epiphany during that kiss. I've been in love with Stiles for at least a year but probably ever since I first met him. It's a choice I didn't consciously make, but it was a choice none the less. Also, my relationship with him is the most stable one I've had since I was fourteen."

The smile he gives me is soft, parental. "Spooked ya, did it?"

I nod. "I've known since I was twenty that I'm bisexual. But my attraction to Stiles sure as shit took me by surprise."

"So you ran." He makes it a statement but I treat it like a question.

"Yeah. Wasn't planning on ever coming back, either. Got three hours out of town before I turned around. Needed another taste of him like I need air."

My confession pulls a surprised brow lift from him. "Do I want to know?"

I duck my head to hide my smile. "It was just another kiss. He was at school by that point."

"Ah."

"But, if I'm being honest, it would have been more had he not been."

"Now that-" He points his finger at me. "-is definitely something I _don't_ want to know."

I chuckle. "Fair enough. No talk about fucking your son. Got it." I wink at him and my chuckle turns into a full laugh at the blush that rushes up his neck and into his face.

"Enough of that!" He huffs and fans his face. "This is my son we're talking about. He's still a virgin. He will _always_ be a virgin!"

Despite his words, I'm fairly sure he's aware that Stiles and I have been having sex.

"And just how were you planning on becoming a grandpa?"

He stammers for a moment before he finds his words. "With you, that's not an issue."

"It is, actually."

He looks at me for a long silent minute and then a lightbulb goes off in his head. "Ah, c'mon! Don't make me think about that in relation to my son!"

I laugh again. "We have not discussed it, but I know that if I decide to become a father, I want to increase the chance of my pups being Wolves."

"Not a whole lot of supernatural foster kids, huh?"

"No. We'll probably go the surrogate route with one of the females of the Pack as the carrier. And then there's the fact that the whole Pack has basically adopted you so their pups will most likely call you Grandpa, or whatever you want to be called."

"No." He shakes his head. "The whole Pack, you included, are virgins and will remain so."

"If you say so, Sheriff." I give him my cheesiest grin which has him throwing me a look that has me swallowing a wave of grief. It is just too similar to the look my dad would give when he was nearing the end of his tolerance with my teasing.

"Derek?" His hand lands on my arm, the broad, callused palm warm against my skin.

"Sorry. I was just reminded of my dad for a second there."

He nods his understanding. "Were you close?"

"As close as could be considering he was Mom's Second."

At his confused look, I hasten to explain. "He had a lot of duties that took him from home a lot. But when he was here we were thick as thieves."

"How'd he die?" His voice makes me miss both of my parents more than I have in years.

Not only did I have a close relationship with my father, but I had one with my mother too. Being one of only two men born into a family of women, and the only son of the Alpha, ensured that our relationship was special.

"Car accident. One of our investments in LA required his attention. He was on his way home after being gone nearly a week. A semi crossed the center line and hit him head on. He died instantly." 

And I know the exact moment it happened because my mother was tucking my sisters and me into bed when her connection with him was severed. Her howl of grief forced me to shift for the first time.

"I am so sorry." I can see in his eyes that he remembers it now. Remembers driving the state trooper to the preserve to tell my family that my father was dead. Remembers the days upon days of constant heavy rains and flash floods. 

For most of a week after, the weather seemed to mirror my mother's mood. She cried nonstop for days, huge howling sobs of grief. She and my father were a love match. It was very telling of just how much her mother loved her that she was willing to break a promise with an ally Pack so that Talia Hale, eldest daughter of the Alpha of Hale Pack, could Mate with Anders Morrison, Beta from a pack from northern Oregon with no useful connections.

"Thank you. You know, I've never understood the saying that time heals all wounds because this wound will always be raw. The pain may lessen with time, but it's always there, always open and ready to ache unexpectedly in the most painful of ways."

"I know exactly what you mean. I know your mother's grief." 

A single tear slides down his cheek as he remembers losing his wife. And while I do not know the agony of losing my Mate, I can sympathize after almost losing Stiles today.

We fall into a companionable silence for several seconds before he asks, "Is there anything else you need to talk about?"

I take a deep breath and release it slowly. The fear of losing Stiles is still too fresh in my mind. Keeping my gaze on my hands, I ask in a soft voice, "How'd you survive it?"

"Who says I did? Because I'm still standing?" I'm glad he doesn't even pretend to not know what I'm asking. 

Still not looking at him, I nod my head. 

"Stiles. He's the reason I get up in the mornings. Even now, with him here with you. This is his home, Beacon Hills, and it's my job to keep it, and him, safe."

Slowly I raise my eyes to his. "I don't know if I could."

He nods. "If it were to happen now, I don't think you would. But in a few years, especially if you have kids? You could and you would." He squeezes my arm, then removes his hand to run both down his face. "Kids have a way of making you stronger than you ever thought you could be."

"So if you hadn't had Stiles…" I lift my brows to indicate the remainder of my question.

He sighs. "Oh, I'd still be here. But I'd be a drunk. And not a functioning one, either. I would definitely not be sheriff. Probably wouldn't even be a deputy."

He bows his head for a long moment. Then he sniffs and returns his gaze to mine. "I'll be honest, here. I did lose myself in a bottle for a while, after. But Stiles pulled me out." A wry smile twists his lips. "I think that's partially why he's so worried about my health, now."

"And because you're his only remaining living relative."

"Yeah, that too." We share a smile and this time the silence is less awkward.

I'm just about to call it a night when he clears his throat. "Let me ask you something. How'd your mother survive?"

"Who says she did?" I throw his words back at him.

His brows lift in surprise at my response.

"I may have been young and with no frame of reference for that level of grief, but now that I do, I don't think she ever got past it."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Her and my dad were a love match which is rare for the offspring of an Alpha. Especially one as powerful as the Alpha of Hale Pack. But Mom had gone to a Pack meeting where young, unmated wolves go to meet others their age when she was fifteen. She returned babbling about this green-eyed Beta from a tiny little Pack in Northern Oregon. She swore she was in love."

"I bet her mother didn't take it too well?"

"According to my parents, Mahala tried to talk her out of it. But when it was obvious that Mom would run away unless allowed to Mate with the wolf who had caught her eye, Mahala agreed to speak to the father of the young wolf Mom had been promised to. It speaks volumes about how much my grandmother loved my mom that she broke a nearly twenty-year agreement with one of our biggest allies just so Mom could be happy with her Mate."

I swallow the lump in my throat and blink back more tears. "My parents were so in love it was disgusting. The happiness and affection they had for one another was obvious to everyone who laid eyes on them. I feel that that is why their connection was nearly telepathic. 

"The night Papa died, he'd been gone nearly a week. I was due to have my first shift soon. In fact, I felt it would happen on the next full moon which was the following night. He had promised to be home in time. A first shift is a very special thing. Kinda like a bar mitzvah. It usually happens when a wolf is ten or eleven. Although it can happen as early as nine and as late as eighteen."

I keep my gaze averted as I talk, glad that John is listening without saying anything. When I've told edited versions of this story before, the person listening always broke in with the words people say to be polite to someone who has lost a loved one.

"I had been bugging her all day about when he'd be home." A sad smile lifts the corners of my mouth at the memory of how patient she was with me. "Each time, she'd stop what she was doing, put her hands on my face and say, 'Oh, my darling boy. He'll be home soon. He promised, didn't he?' _Each time_ I asked. There were periods where I'd asked her five times in as many minutes."

I pause to breathe through another wave of grief. "I missed him each time he went away, but this time was different. I don't know if it was only because I dreamed of him dying or if I was sensing that my first shift was near." I shrug. "It doesn't really matter now.

"I spent the evening trying to convince her to let me stay up until he got home but I had school the next day and Mom was the type of parent that rarely, if ever, let you skip school." My breath hitches as I prepare to say the hardest part of the story.

"Mom was tucking my sisters and me into bed. I was almost crying while begging to be allowed to wait up for him. She got short with me for the first time. Or so I thought because her eyes flashed and her face began to shift." I swipe my hand across one cheek, surprised when it comes away wet. I wasn't aware that I had started crying.

"Then she threw back her head and let out the saddest, most mournful howl I had ever heard. It was deep enough to force my first shift and to have Laura and Cora whine and bare their necks. And then the rest of the Pack joined in as they all felt the shift in the Pack Bond."

I glance over at John to see his reaction to my story so far and all I can see in his eyes is sympathy and a sense of shared sadness.

"She then had to get control over her emotions long enough for the notification. Couldn't let Humans know that she was aware of his death before they were."

He places his hand back on my arm. "I remember hearing the howl and being confused because there aren't any wolves in California. Well, _actual_ wolves, at any rate." He tilts his head in thought. "I remember bringing the Trooper here. You and your sisters were sitting on the stairs, weren't you?"

I nod. "We were told to stay in our beds, that the notification wouldn't come until late. But we couldn't sleep and so we heard the knock." After Mom had left the room, I had crawled into bed with Laura and Cora and the three of us curled around each other for warmth and comfort. "When we heard your voices, we got out of bed and crept down the stairs; figured it would look more natural."

"It did. I've done a lot of notifying of loved ones, and if there are children, they almost always creep into the back of the room where they can see and hear, without their parent or parents noticing."

He pats my arm before removing his hand, this time. "You said your mother's grieved howl forced you to shift? Without a full moon?"

"A full moon, or Alpha's howl, is needed for a first shift. After that, anything that raises the blood pressure: anger, arousal, nerves, will start a shift. By the end of the first year, a wolf should have enough control to change at will. I didn't develop that ability until I was sixteen. When I said something about my lack of control to Mom, she said it might have been because of how my first shift happened."

"Because her howl forced it?"

I nod. "That and the grief of Papa's death. But the fire taught me what I needed to know in order to control it."

"What was that?"

"Anger. I had to learn how to live my life angry. And it worked until I returned to Beacon Hills and met a couple of teenagers that are much too nosy for their own good."

He huffs a humorless chuckle. "Yes, they are."

"Sometime after I met them, Stiles became my anchor. And I can't tell you how good it feels to not be so angry all the time."

With a wry twist of his lips, he says, "You don't have to."

My brows climb my forehead. "Oh?"

John nods. "Yeah. I was in the army for a while before Stiles was born. The things that Humans will do to other Humans in the name of some god…" He shakes his head. "Claudia helped soothe that anger. And then-" He can't continue.

But I know what he means. "So, are you still angry?"

"Some days that anger is what fuels me. Others, I'm glad I could finally let it go."

"You're still angry over the war?"

He sighs. "Yes. And Claudia, too." He rubs his hands on his thighs. "I have to admit, though, that the anger over Claudia will probably never truly go away. But I am ready to get back to living. Now that Stiles is mostly settled, it's my turn."

I nod. "Is he aware that you're planning on dating?"

"I took off my ring last year. I even had a date with Lydia's mom."

"What happened?"

"Got interrupted by supernatural things."

"Right. They seem to interrupt lots of things."

"That they do. But hopefully things will settle down, now."

It's as if his words are a curse because no sooner do they leave his lips than that fucking itch is back. And worse than before. Luckily John is Human and therefore unable to smell my unease because he, like the rest of us, or maybe even more so, deserves a peaceful life.

"Hopefully." The antique mantel clock I purchased a year ago to replace the one lost in the fire chimes the quarter-hour. "I should get back to Stiles."

He blinks like he doesn't know how he got here. "I didn't realize it was so late."

We both stand and I walk him to the front door. He turns and looks up at the ceiling before meeting my gaze, silently demanding I take care of his son. I let him know I will with a nod. With a small smile he steps out onto the porch and I close the door, standing with one hand braced on the thick wood until the sound of his car has faded into the distance.

With my own look at the ceiling, I turn and climb the stairs. I am so not looking forward to this conversation. Doesn't make it any less necessary, though.

In our bedroom, I find Stiles still fully dressed, sitting cross-legged on the bed. The look on his face is one I never want to see aimed in my direction ever again.

"You're still awake, good."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"Because there are things I need to tell you."

He tilts his head. "Why didn't you say them earlier?"

"You were ready for some sleep. And I said the things that were the most important."

He gives a tiny nod. "I see," he says, but his tone clearly implies he does not.

Cautiously I approach the bed and climb onto it and sit cross-legged facing him. When I don't begin speaking right away, he raises his eyebrows. Lowering my head and closing my eyes, I search for the words that will most likely have him packing his bags and walking out of my life.

Clearing my throat, and keeping my head down, I begin to tell him everything. "Remember that day last month when you caught me still fully shifted?"

I sneak a peek and see him trying, and mostly failing, to not smirk at the memory. "Yeah. Best sex we've ever had."

I nod. "Well...um…" I run one hand across the back of my neck. "We...kinda...created a Mate Bond that day." I tuck my chin tighter to my chest and hunch my shoulders, waiting for blows that don't come.

When I open one eye to see why I find him sitting with his mouth hanging open. "We did, what, now?"

"Mate Bonded." I wince at the squeak in my voice.

He blinks at me. "Does that mean what I think it means?"

"If you think it means we're married according to Pack Law, then yeah."

"Huh." He sags back against the headboard. "Do we get a party or something?"

Leave it to my crazy ass Mate to want a party! "If it had been planned, yes."

He frowns. "So just because it happened accidentally we don't get to celebrate with our Pack?"

"You want a party? We'll have a fucking party! But that is so not the fucking point, Stiles!" My frustration has leaked into my voice.

"Then what _is_ the point, Derek?" For some reason, Stiles' calm voice pisses me off even further.

Pushing the anger down, promising the wolf that we'll go for a run later, I duck my head again and mumble, "You weren't given a choice."

"I'm sorry but you're gonna have to speak up. Some of us have Human hearing."

Looking up at him through my lashes, I say it again. "I didn't ask if you wanted to."

He rolls his eyes so hard, mine hurt in sympathy. "Oh, for-" He bites off his words before leaning across the space between us to press his lips to mine. "When you fucked me that day, did you plan on creating the Bond?" I shake my head. "Okay, then. Stop feeling guilty about it. Besides, what's done is done."

"You can undo it, if you want." My voice is soft and I have to fight the urge to drop my head again.

"Say again?" Anger is starting to tinge his tone.

I'm not sure what I've done this time, but I repeat what I just said. "If you want, you can undo it."

He flicks one finger against my forehead. I frown at him and rub the spot, even though it didn't hurt. "Would you just fucking stop? I love you. Why would I want to break our Bond?"

His words have the fist around my heart easing some, making it easier to breathe. "I didn't say you _had_ to undo it, just that you _can_ , if you want."

"News flash, Sourwolf, I do not now, nor will I _ever_ want to undo this Bond." He crawls into my lap, wrapping his arms and legs around me. Leaning in, he puts his lips to my ear and whispers, "Make love to me, Derek."

A shiver skips down my spine and settles into my groin. "Stiles," I moan, trying to hold him at arm's length, only to have him cling tighter.

"If you say you have more to tell me, I will never let you touch me, ever again."

His words pull a strangled laugh from deep within me. "I'd be more willing to believe that you mean those words if you weren't currently trying to fuck yourself on my leg."

"Oh, is that your leg? My bad." He just grinds down harder.

I can't stop the groan that escapes when my dick twitches. "Stiles, you're killing me, here!"

"Then make love to me," he whispers again in my ear before licking the lobe into his mouth.

He runs the back of one hand down my abdomen until he can get his fingers under the waistband of my sleep pants, whining low in his throat when the angle proves to be all wrong for him to get his fingers around me.

"Derek," he says, a pout thick in his voice. His breathing is harsh already and when he leans back to meet my gaze, all I can see is a thin ring of amber brown around his wide pupils. "Please."

"You want me to lie on top of you with your bruised ribs and fuck you stupid?"

"I can ride you." He leans closer and begins mouthing at my jaw.

"Fuck it." I toss him gently from my lap before pulling his sweatpants down and off, throwing them over my shoulder.

His face lights up and he sits up enough to assist me in removing his shirt. When he's flat on his back again, I push his legs apart so I can run my tongue up the inside of one thigh, across his abdomen while completely avoiding his erection, and back down the other thigh.

The noises coming from his throat are sounds I've never heard him make before. But then again, I haven't actually explored his body like I plan on exploring it now.

With slight pressure to his calf, I get him to lift his leg enough for me to duck my head and suck a bruise into the underside of his knee. His breath hitches and I file that away under things that turn him on. Placing his calf on my shoulder, I begin leaving a trail of hickeys up the back of his thigh, adding a hint of teeth to the last one. His hands are fisted so tight in my hair, I'm afraid he's going to pull some out.

This time when moving from one leg to the other, I bump his sack with my nose, inhaling deeply. His scent will always have the ability to ground me and now is no different.

The wolf is straining at his leash, demanding I let him take our Mate; to strengthen the Bond. I placate him by reminding him that Stiles is injured and that there will be time for that later. He subsides, but the urge to rut is still there.

On Stiles' other leg, I place chaste kisses until I get to his ankle. With a tap to his sternum, I get him to open his eyes. The second his gaze meets mine, I extend my fangs and run one gently along the arch of his instep. His leg twitches at the tickle. When I do it again, harder, he moans deeply, hands tugging in the hair he's gripping like a lifeline.

With a chuckle, I run the flat of my tongue up his leg, stopping to lick behind his knee. He gasps and throws his head back with a full body shudder. "Derek…" His voice sounds completely wrecked.

"Yes, Stiles?" This time the tug on my hair has an edge of annoyance that I'm able to sound calm, even though I am anything but, while he is so far gone that all he can do is moan and groan.

"Please…" He begs so very prettily.

I lean up so that I'm braced on my hands and knees over him. "Please, what?" I rub my nose against his.

His hands drop from my hair to my shoulders. "Please…" He shakes his head, and whimpers, as words fail him.

"Is this what you want?" I ask, wrapping my hand around his cock and tugging.

His keening cry is all the warning I get before his spills over my fingers.

"Well, then." I smile down at him.

All he can do is blink up at me for nearly a full minute. But once he's come down, his eyes narrow in anger. "You bastard," he hisses, pushing on my chest.

I can't stop my chuckle. "Oh, no. My parents were legally married." His eyes narrow even more and I'm nearly positive he can't even see me anymore. "But I did what you asked. I made love to you."

"That's… that's…" He shoves on my chest again and this time I back up. He jumps off the bed and grabs his sweatpants and shirt, pulling them roughly back on. "That's not what I meant, and you know it!"

I shrug my shoulders, rolling over to my side and leaning on one elbow. "Maybe so. But you wanted it and I'm not fucking done talking!" When I shout the last words, I worry for the first time that we just might end up waking the entire house. I really need to soundproof the bedrooms.

"Well, maybe I am!" 

I get out of bed because if we're going to have this argument, then I'll be fucking damned if I'm gonna be lying down for it. "I don't get you, Stiles. You just yelled at your dad and me for talking about you behind your back and now that I want to tell you what we talked about you don't want to!?"

He crosses his arms over his chest and drops his gaze to the floor. "Maybe I don't want to hear that you've decided I should go back to his house."

Rubbing the bridge of my nose, trying to prevent the headache I can feel building, I step closer and reach out to touch his shoulder. When he leans back at my tug forward, I let it go and step close enough to share our body heat and somehow manage to resist pulling him into my arms. "That's not what we talked about."

He looks at me from the corner of one eye. "Then what?"

"Nightmares. And my childhood."

"Nightmares?" He throws his head up so fast, he nearly clocks me on the chin.

"Yeah. Nightmares." When he pulls away, I let him.

"What about nightmares?"

With a sigh, I sit on the bed. "Let me ask you a question. And please answer honestly." I wait for his nod of agreement. "That first night we slept together… You had a nightmare, didn't you? That's why I caught you climbing into my bed?" I don't really need his confirmation but I want it because I need him to trust me enough to tell me the truth.

When he nods, while keeping his gaze averted, I press on. "And the night I first fucked you. You had one then, too." I make it a statement but he nods again, anyway.

Standing from the bed, I approach where he's standing with his arms wrapped around his torso. "And tonight, too." I keep my voice low and soft.

With a choked back sob, he nods one more time before turning and burying his face in my neck. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugs and when he speaks his voice is muffled due to him still hiding his face in my neck. "Would it have made a difference that first night?"

I push him back so I can duck my head to see his face. "God, yes! Stiles! How could you think otherwise?" I give in to the urge and shake him just a little. "When I think of the way I yelled at you!"

"If I had asked?" The look in his eyes says he knows I wouldn't have let him sleep with me had he waited outside my door.

"If you had told me you needed the comfort of touch, I would have stripped us both naked and spent the night grooming you. God, Stiles!" I pull him to me, crushing him in my arms. "I'm a Werewolf. Touch is super important to us. Especially when we're distressed or upset." Burying my nose in his neck, I inhale deeply. "As my Mate, you need to trust me with these things. Promise you won't keep something like this from me again."

"Okay." When he takes a deep breath, I just know I'm not going to like what he's about to say. "Then you should probably know that that first night wasn't the first nightmare I had after moving in."

"Stiles," I growl around my fangs.

"I know, I know." He pulls from my arms and backs across the room as if he's afraid I'll hit him. "You had admitted that you didn't want me here. I knew you'd never let me sleep in your bed. I mean, it was one of your rules! But I needed to know for sure that I wasn't alone. I slept outside your door." He lowers his gaze to the floor. "I set my alarm for an hour before you got up."

His admission has my breath leaving on a grunt as if he had actually punched me in the gut. "You didn't trust me, even then?" I don't know why that thought hurts, but it does.

He looks up at me through his lashes. "I thought I did but I guess I only trusted you with my life, not my emotional wellbeing."

With a sad sigh, I return to the bed where I sink down to sit on the edge of the mattress. "We really need to work on our communication."

Stiles laughs. "Yeah, guess we do."

"Have you had any others?"

He ducks his head to stare at where he's rubbing a toe against the floor. "Not really."

"Yeah, that's not an answer. It's a yes or no question, Stiles."

He glances up at me through his lashes. "If I fall asleep with you in the bed then they're just bad dreams. But if you're not in the bed when I fall asleep then they're full on nightmares."

"I see." I pat the mattress next to my hip. "Want to talk about them."

Shaking his head, he sits next to me and leans against my shoulder. "No."

"Are they about the Nogitsune?"

His sigh warns that he's not happy I ignored him when he said he doesn't want to talk about his nightmares. "Sometimes. But not the one tonight."

"Sometimes talking about them helps."

He turns to stare at me. "Really? This coming from you? The poster child for repressed emotions."

I know what he's doing and despite my best effort, it does get to me. And more than just a little bit. "I realize that that isn't really sound advice coming from me, but Stiles, I can't help you if I don't know what the problem is."

His eyebrows climb his forehead. "I could say the same to you, Sourwolf."

"Stiles."

"You died, okay?" He jumps up from the bed and begins pacing the room, waving his arms wildly in the air. "Everyone died!"

"Stiles."

"And it was my fault." His voice catches on a choked off sob and I know what he's about to say so I call his name to make him stop. " _He_ killed you all. While you were trying to save me."

I come off the bed and rush where he's standing just as his knees give way. "Stiles."

He sobs out his grief and anger on my shoulder. "My fault! It's all my fucking fault!"

It would appear that he's been holding on to some things that we all thought he'd gotten over. "None of it was your fault, Stiles."

"Of course it was. My mom, Heather, Aiden, everyone Jennifer killed."

Grabbing his shoulders, I push him back so I can look him in the face. "None of those deaths can be laid at your feet."

"Aiden is dead because of the Nogitsune. An evil spirit that was _possessing me_ , Derek. How can that not be my fault?"

"You are not responsible for the actions performed by your body against your will."

"Speaking from experience, are you?" 

Oh, now that one hurt. And I flinch back as if he had slapped me. His eyes go wide, all color drains from his face, and one hand covers his mouth. "Oh, my God, Derek! I swear I did not mean that." He takes a small step in my direction, one hand outstretched. "Please believe me. I did not mean that."

"No." I step back out of his reach. "No." Running one hand across my mouth, I debate the prudence of bolting from the room. "I take full responsibility for the things I willingly did. And as for the incident you're talking about, I also take full responsibility. If I had been a better Alpha, Scott might have brought his plan to me."

"Oh, God." He drops his face into his hands. "We are both so fucked up."

"Yeah. Guess that's what makes us perfect for each other."

His head snaps up and he narrows his eyes on my face. "Was that sarcasm?" This time when he steps closer, I hold my ground. "Did you, Derek Steven Hale,-" He pokes me in the chest. "-just make a _joke_?"

"I have been known to do so. On occasion."

He snorts but the corners of his lips are twitching. "And there you go being funny again. Didn't know you had it in you, old man."

"Hey, watch it! This old man has been known to fuck you stupid."

He tilts his head, gives me a very thorough once over, and licks his lower lip. "Care you show me how you do that?"

I throw back my head and laugh. Then rush where he's standing, tossing him over my shoulder before falling onto the bed, with him on top.

"Is this a yes?" He holds himself up with his hands on my shoulders

"Shut up, Stiles." The wolf pushes to the surface and I let him.

Stiles shivers at my half shifted face. "Make me," he taunts, again licking his bottom lip.

"With pleasure," I growl, wrapping one hand around the back of his neck and pulling him into a kiss that's rougher than any we've ever had before.

When he collapses against my chest several hours later, I wrap him in my arms and hold him while he sleeps, wishing that I could protect him from every little thing that could possibly hurt him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this chapter now instead of making y'all wait until Saturday. I'll get the next one out as soon as I can.

The sun hasn't been up for very long when I wake up the next morning and slip slowly from the bed, not even remotely surprised when Stiles doesn't so much as stir, and head to the bathroom. Stepping into the shower, I let the water pound down on the back of my shoulders while I lean on my hands against the wall and allow myself a rare moment of grief for everyone I've lost over the years. After several minutes, my arms give out, and my shoulder collides with the wall before I slowly slide down it to sit huddled and sobbing on the cold tile floor. Of everyone and everything I've lost, I cry hardest over almost losing the person who means the most to me.

I know I told John that I didn't make the conscious decision to love Stiles, and I didn't, not really, but once I was aware that I was in love with him, I did make the decision to stay in Beacon Hills even though I knew I could never have him. My life has been difficult, mostly in recent years, and I knew I could never - should never - let Stiles anywhere near that. My wolf and I disagreed on this, but I had learned how to force him to submit, so I was confident that I would get my way.

And then Stiles decided he's in love with me and forced his way into my house. I could have found a way to make him stay away. Probably. Oh, who am I kidding? Once Stiles decided his place was in my house, nothing and no one could have forced him to stay away.

I _knew_ I should keep my distance from him and used his age and his being the sheriff's son as my main reasons when it's really because I knew I wouldn't be able to survive losing him. After everyone else I've lost (even though Cora is still alive, she's living with her Mate in another country, so I've lost her again), losing Stiles would make me wish for death; if it doesn't outright kill me.

And as if to prove to me that I overstepped by allowing myself to be with him, he was abducted and hurt. I cannot let that happen again, while at the same time, I cannot stay away from him, not now that I've had the pleasure of being with him.

Finally, my self-pity party comes to an end, and I step from the shower, dry off, and get dressed. In the bedroom, I find Stiles curled around my pillow.

"Stiles," I say, poking him in the shoulder. He groans and bats my hand away. I poke him harder and say his name again.

"'s Saturday. 'm sleepin'," he mutters, burying his face in my pillow.

"C'mon." I toss back the covers, revealing his gorgeous naked body. "Your dad's waiting for us."

He twists the upper part of his body and squints up at me. "What part of I'm not pressing charges don't you two understand?"

My brows climb my forehead. "You'd think that as a sheriff's son you'd know that unless you know exactly who hurt you, all you can do is file a report."

He blinks up at me. Guess he didn't expect me to know that. With a huff, he twists back around and pulls the covers back up. "Still not going."

Leaning over, I put my lips to his ear. "You can either get your ass out of this bed and dressed or I can carry you kicking and screaming and buck ass naked into the station."

He quickly rolls over onto his back. "You wouldn't."

"Try me." When he makes no move to get out of the bed, I slide my arms under his knees and upper back and start to lift him.

He starts to fight me. "Okay! Okay! Put me down!"

I set him on his feet, and he stomps into the bathroom, muttering about high-handed Werewolves who think they can put their hands on him without his permission.

"You didn't seem to mind when I put my hands on you last night."

He steps back into the doorway of the bathroom to glare at me. "I was horny!" 

I just raise my brows again, knowing he'll get the message that he needs to get on with his shower. He huffs again and flounces out of sight.

Several minutes later, he comes back into the bedroom, still naked and drying his hair. The wolf perks up at the sight of our Mate in all his naked glory, and I roughly shove him back. He whines and pushes against my restraint. I remind him that Stiles needs to file the report and should probably get checked out at the hospital. He grumbles but subsides, curling into a ball with his nose buried in his tail.

Stiles steps into a pair of my boxer briefs before pulling his jeans up his long legs. I raise one brow in question when he doesn't do anything more than that. With a grin that I'm sure he thinks is seductive, he steps between my knees, where I'm sitting on the edge of the bed.

"You know-" He licks his bottom lip.

"No." I don't even let him finish his statement.

"You don't even know what I was gonna say!"

"You were going to try and get me to stay here and forget about your dad."

He throws me an exasperated look at the fact that I know him so well. "Would it be so bad?"

"Stiles." I grab his hips and pull him closer. 

He straddles my lap and takes my face in his hands, tilting it so he can brush his lips across mine. "C'mon, Derek. I know you want me."

"Stiles." My breath catches on his name, and my eyes fall to the bruise on his torso. "You were hurt." I run gentle fingers across the ugly evidence of his ordeal and begin pulling the pain from him.

"Stop that." He pushes my hand away. I frown up at him. "I earned this pain. Leave it."

"You didn't mind me taking it last night."

"Yeah, well, last night I was trying to get laid and the pain was in the way."

I huff a laugh against his sternum. "I love you, Stiles. And I almost lost you. Think of how your dad must feel. He didn't even know you were missing until you'd been found."

"That's on Scott." He buries his fingers in my hair and tilts my head back.

"Trust me when I say I'll be bringing that up with him at a later date." Lowering my head, I press gentle kisses to the bruise. "Please, Stiles. Your dad doesn't ask much of you. He wants to feel like he's protecting you; plus it's his job."

Stiles' sigh ruffles the hair on the top of my head. " _Fine_. But I'm doing this under protest."

When he makes no move to get off my lap, I close my eyes and sigh against his skin. "Stiles, please. Think of what this did to us. I was afraid-" I almost bite my tongue, I stop talking so fast.

"You were afraid of what, Derek?" Stiles forces my head up. "What's wrong?"

I shake my head and gently push him from my lap. "I'll wait for you downstairs." With quick steps, I exit our bedroom and stumble down the stairs.

I can't believe I almost fucked up by telling him my biggest secret; the one thing I'm positive will have him walking away. I may have fought this tooth and nail, but there is no way in hell I'm gonna let him walk from my life. Not if I can help it, that is.

Kate did such a good job of destroying my self-esteem that most days it's all I can do to fake the confidence that I know is expected of me. Every member of this Pack looks to me even though I'm not the Alpha because I'm the oldest. 

Stiles can never know that I don't deserve his love. Can never know that it would destroy me if he was to die or leave me. I messed up last night by telling him that my love for him scares me because it makes me vulnerable. I'm just glad he didn't leave after hearing that. But I know he wouldn't stay if he knew everything else.

I almost run over Lydia in my haste to exit the house.

"Derek?" She stops me with a hand to my arm. "Are you okay?"

I can't talk, so I just nod my head. But she doesn't believe me, if the noise she makes in the back of her throat is any indication.

"C'mere." She grabs a fistful of my shirt and uses it to pull me outside and down the steps into the front yard. "I need you to breathe. Can you do that for me?" She puts her tiny hands on my cheeks, and they're cool against the heat of my skin. "Derek?"

I blink several times, trying to focus on her. "Can't…" My breath is coming in irregular gulps. I know this means I'm having a panic attack, but I can't seem to stop it.

"Just focus on me, okay?" Her grip on my face gets tighter, and slowly my eyes focus on her face. 

The concern shining from her eyes breaks my heart. None of these teenagers should be here. I shouldn't have stayed after killing Peter the first time. Or better yet, I shouldn't have left New York. But Laura was all I had at the time. We had gotten close in the years since the fire, and I just couldn't face a future without her in it.

I wonder what would have happened if I had insisted I come back with her. Would Peter have been able to kill her? Would he have killed us both? Would I have met Stiles? And that's what this all boils down to, isn't it? If given the chance, would I go back and change things if there was a chance that I wouldn't end up with Stiles? At this moment, the answer is yes. And that is yet another reason I can't tell him everything that Kate did to me.

"Are you okay?" She runs one hand up my forehead like she's brushing hair off my face. It's just enough like how my mother used to do it that the panic attack loses its grip on me, and my breathing begins to slowly return to normal. "There." She smiles at me, and I'm reminded just why Stiles thought he was in love with her for so long. She really is very beautiful, inside and out.

"Thanks, Lyds," I say, using Stiles' nickname for her.

She chuckles. "You've been spending too much time with Stiles. Not that I mind. I've come to like being called that." She links her arm through mine and turns me back to the steps where we sit down. "Care to tell me what brought that on? You don't strike me as the type to have panic attacks."

Before I can answer, the door bangs open, and Stiles stomps out onto the porch. "If we're doing this, let's go. And for the record, I _refuse_ to go to the hospital. I don't give a fuck what you or my dad say. I. Am. Not. Going!" He doesn't even stop at the sight of us sitting on the steps, just marches over to the Camaro where he yanks the door open before throwing himself inside and slamming the door closed hard enough to make the car rock.

"Ah." Lydia leans over and presses a soft kiss to my cheek. "I cried in the shower last night and then again all over Jordan. Life would be so boring without him around." That's the closest I've heard her come to saying that she loves Stiles. And now I'm wondering if they would have gotten together if I wasn't around.

Stiles throws open the car door. "Derek!" His glare burns my skin.

With a world weary sigh, I get up and walk around to the driver's side, sliding behind the wheel and starting the car. The drive into town is made in total silence, Stiles' anger pouring off him in waves that choke me with every breath I take.

I pull into a parking spot at the station, turn off the engine, and just sit there, gripping the wheel. The force of my incompetence is choking me almost as much as Stiles' anger. I just want to crumple into a ball and hide, let the world go on without me. I'm sure Stiles would be better off without me around, but I just can't seem to do what I know needs to be done. I can't help but be selfish. Stiles has been my anchor for far too long for me to willingly go back to how I used to be.

"Derek?" Stiles starts to get out of the car and stops once he realizes I'm not moving. "Hey." He places one hand on mine, and I find my breath getting all choppy and ragged again. "Derek, what's wrong?"

With a shake of my head, I climb from the car. Stiles stops me when I go to cross in front of it on my way into the station. He places my left hand on his chest, where I can feel his heart beating, and puts his left on my chest in the same place. He taps two fingers against the back of my hand and two against my chest in time with his heartbeat. "Breathe with me, okay?" He takes a slow breath in and releases it just as slowly. I try and copy him, but my breath hitches several times. "Good. Try again." Again he breathes in and out. Again I try, and, again, my breath hitches. We do this several more times; until my inhales and exhales are as smooth as his, and my heart is beating in time with his. He gives me his perfect smile and says, "Good. That's good. Want to talk about it?"

I shake my head. "It's nothing. Just a delayed reaction to your kidnapping."

"Okay," he says, but I can both hear and smell the lie in the word. "Let's go." With a jerk of his head toward the station, he takes my hand and leads me inside.

Once inside, we find John standing at Parrish's desk, the two of them talking in hushed tones. Parrish sees us first and stops talking. He makes a slight motion to John that gets him turning his head in our direction.

"Good. You're finally here." He holds out one hand, and Parrish hands him a legal pad and pen. "Follow me." John turns on his heel and begins walking toward the interrogation rooms.

"Really, Dad?" Stiles rushes to catch up with John, getting him to stop with a hand on his shoulder. "Wasn't it bad enough the last time?"

"The last time you had kidnapped Jackson and stolen one of the department vans. It was necessary. This time, well,-" John shrugs. "-we interview reluctant witnesses in the interrogation rooms. In case they're being reluctant because they're the responsible party."

"Really? You think I kidnapped and beat myself up?"

"John, he's here. It may be under protest, but he did walk in of his own free will." John and I share a look over Stiles' head.

John sighs deeply, and his shoulders sag. "Okay. We can do this in my office." He holds one arm out in the direction of his office.

"Thank you," Stiles whispers, turning and walking into his father's office.

I hesitate at the door, unsure if I want to hear Stiles tell the story of his ordeal at the hands of the bastard who took him hostage.

"Derek?" He steps into my personal space, his scent soothing my frayed nerves like nothing else can. "I want you here." He tugs on my hand, and I allow him to pull me inside so he can shut the door.

John and Stiles sit at the small table tucked to one side of the door, and I sit on the couch on the other side of the door.

"Well," Stiles starts telling John what happened. "As you know, I have almost no stamina." I can't help but snort because the boy can go for hours before he collapses in exhaustion. "So I was at the back of the group headed back from cross country practice," Stiles continues, ignoring my wordless commentary on his story. "The rest of the Pack was almost to the side of the tunnel closest to the school before I even got to the entrance. Something hit me on the back of the head and when I stopped to touch the spot, a hand with a rag covered my face."

"Did the rag have a smell?" John is writing down every word Stiles is saying.

"Yeah, kinda sickly sweet. Reminded me of the nitrous the dentist gives me."

I see John nod his head from the corner of my eye. "It was probably chloroform. What happened next?"

"I tried to fight but my head hurt. After several minutes, the world went black and then I woke up tied to a chair in a basement."

"What can you tell me about the basement?"

Stiles shrugs. "It was dark and damp. I could hear water dripping somewhere. It was also cold so I don't think it was a finished basement, you know?" John nods again.

"And the guy?"

"Again, it was dark, so I couldn't see him." My head snaps up at the utter lie in Stiles' words. Sure the basement might have been dark when he first woke, but the bastard would have wanted to see what he was hitting, so he would have turned on a light. It is possible he had the light source behind him so that it blinded Stiles and threw him into shadow, but the fact remains that the basement wasn't _that_ dark.

"Could you at least see his shape? How big he was?"

Stiles shakes his head. "No." Another lie. I frown at the back of Stiles' head. 

What's going on with him? First, he shuts the bathroom door yesterday morning, then he tries to be quiet while getting dressed, and now he's lied twice to his father. It makes no sense to me. Especially since after telling John about the supernatural, he promised he'd never lie to him again.

"Okay." John's tone says he's disappointed that Stiles can't supply any more details. "What happened next?"

Stiles shrugs. "Every time I opened my mouth the bastard hit me." John gives Stiles a look at his language but doesn't say anything. "Guess I should learn to keep my mouth shut, huh?"

"Don't." John puts one hand over Stiles' where it's curled in a fist on top of the table. "Sarcasm is never a reason to get the crap beaten out of you."

"Yeah, okay." Stiles' voice is thick with tears. And I suddenly realize that he hasn't cried since I found him crawling across the front yard. I need to get him home before he loses his grip on his emotions.

"How'd you get away?"

"He put a cloth over my face again. And when I woke up, I was lying in a ditch on the side of the road. It took me several minutes to figure out where I was. He hadn't left me anywhere near where I needed to be."

"Is that all?"

"Yeah."

John nods and slides the legal pad toward Stiles and hands him the pen. "Sign this. It's too bad you took a bath last night. There might have been skin under your nails."

"That's my fault, John," I say. "I needed to make sure there weren't any injuries that needed tending to. Plus, him being covered by a strangers' scent was offensive to my wolf."

"Understandable, Derek. What about his clothes?"

"They're covered in mud but they should still be on the bathroom floor. I should have thought about bringing them."

John waves away my words. "No matter. When you get home, put them in a paper bag, seal it, and bring it in, okay?"

I nod.

Stiles signs his name to the bottom of the page and pushes the pad back to his dad. "Are we done, now?"

John sighs. "I'd like to have you get checked out by Melissa but I won't force the issue."

"Good. There isn't anything she could do, anyway. The cuts I can treat myself and I can get someone to wrap my ribs, if I feel it's necessary. You know that that's all she'd do. Other than give me a script for some painkillers, maybe not even that. And Derek's a much better pain reliever than anything else, anyway."

"Alright. But I want your word, Stiles." John points his finger in Stiles' face. "If your pain gets worse, or you start having difficulty breathing, that you'll go to the hospital."

"Don't worry, John. I'll carry him there myself if I think he needs to see a doctor."

"Good." John gives one sharp nod and stands up, pulling Stiles up with him so he can wrap his arms around his shoulders and press a kiss to his forehead. "I love you, son," he whispers against his son's skin. "I was terrified when I found out."

"I'm fine, Dad." Stiles' voice is suspiciously wet, and I know he's lost his hold on the tears.

I feel like an interloper, sitting here watching the father and son holding on to each other as they cry over what could have happened.

"Derek?" John holds out one arm when I stand up to slip from the room and give them their privacy. When I hesitate, he stretches that much further and grabs my sleeve so he can tug me into his embrace. 

My eyes slide closed once I'm surrounded by the scent of my Mate and his father, and my wolf makes a contented noise when I feel the press of John's lips to my forehead. "I love you both," he says before stepping back and wiping his eyes. "Now get out of here. I got work to do."

At the car, Stiles turns to lean against the hood. "Want to tell me what's going on?"

I frown at him. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Bullshit." Stiles steps into my personal space and jabs a finger into my chest. "You had a fucking panic attack when we got here. You never have panic attacks."

"As far as you know. You're not with me twenty-four-seven, Stiles."

"You want me to talk to you, Sourwolf?" He pokes harder, and for the first time, that stupid ass nickname he insists on using sounds like an insult. "You. Got. To. Talk. To. Me, too!" He punctuates each word with a jab of his finger against my sternum.

I grab his finger and fling it aside. "Stop calling me that stupid name. And stop poking me in the chest!"

"Or, what?" He throws his arms wide open. "What're you gonna do?"

"Why are you yelling at me?"

"Because you're not talking to me!"

The wolf pushes to the surface, but I shove him back. Then, with a low growl, I turn and begin pacing a circle next to the car. "You wanna know why I didn't tell you about the bad feeling I've been having?"

"Uh, yeah!"

"Because it wasn't anything specific. It was an itch in the middle of my back. I get these feelings from time to time. Sometimes, like with my dad, they come with dreams. But most times they don't. I learned early on that no one believes me so I don't tell anyone."

"I'm not anyone, Derek." Stiles' voice is soft and has an edge of hurt to it. "I'm your Mate."

"I know. But, Stiles, you have to understand. When I say no one believed me, I mean _no one_. Not even my mother." I run my fingers through my hair and fight back the urge to shift and run.

"Hey." He steps into my path, putting his hands on my chest to get me to stop. "You need to run?" I nod. "Okay. Get undressed in the backseat and I'll let you off somewhere between here and home."

I nod again and climb into the backseat while he walks around to the driver's side. Once he's behind the wheel, I hand over the keys, struggling to pull my shirt off over my head before the wolf can force his way out.

By the time we're on the main road toward the preserve, I have completely shifted. Standing on the seat, I shake as well as I can in the cramped space. Stiles' scent calls to me even more in this form, and I push my face between the seats so I can stick my nose behind his right ear.

He squeals and hunches his shoulder. "God, your nose is cold!" He takes one hand off the wheel to push my head away. "Stop distracting me. I don't want to crash."

I cuff in his ear and lick the side of his face.

"Derek!" He manages to get his elbow into my chest and pushes me back.

I climb into the passenger seat with a sigh and stare at him with the saddest expression I can muster.

He glances at me a couple of times before laughing. "Oh, give me a break. You got nothing on Scott in the kicked puppy look department." I huff and turn to face the passenger window. "Oh, now you're gonna sulk? Ya big baby." He scratches behind one of my ears.

It's _the spot_ ; the one guaranteed to make me melt, and now is no exception. With a groan, I tilt my head into his hand. "You are so fucking easy." I can't find it in me to care. I love having his hands on me regardless of which form I'm in.

A couple of miles from the road leading to the house, he slows down and opens the window. "Be careful. And try to be back before dark."

I turn to press my nose against his cheek before jumping out the window and bounding off into the woods.

My wolf is in heaven. I've given him complete control over our body. He runs and jumps and chases anything that moves. He manages to catch a fat squirrel, and I can now add raw squirrel to the list of food I never want to eat ever again.

The sun has begun its slow slide toward the horizon when I feel eyes on me. Stopping near the treeline, I turn and look over my shoulder. There, just inside the treeline on the other side of the clearing, is a red fox with a white streak on its chest and black on its feet and the tips of its ears. If Stiles was a Shifter, I imagine he'd look like this fox.

My wolf is exhausted, but this fox interests him just like it does me. We agree that we can wait to get home until we introduce ourselves to this brave little creature.

Moving slowly, we turn to face the fox. Lowering ourselves to our belly, we slowly crawl closer, encouraged when all it does is tense its muscles in preparation of running. It lowers its head and sniffs at the ground, taking a tiny step in our direction.

My wolf yips softly, his tongue lolling from his mouth as he grins; I keep our mouth closed, trying to not scare the fox away.

When we're within a few feet of the fox, we roll over onto our back, baring our belly. We want the fox to know we mean it no harm.

The fox slowly walks closer, and we hold our breath, doing our best to not move a single muscle. The fox touches its nose to ours before darting back as if expecting us to jump up and attack. When all we do is continue to lie there, it approaches again. This time it sniffs along our body. When it comes back to our head, it pushes with its nose, and we roll over to our belly but don't stand just yet.

The fox nips at our ear and darts away; when we don't give chase, it comes back and repeats the action, nipping a bit harder. With a yip at our continued misunderstanding of what it wants, the fox gives a play bow and dances forward and back. With an answering yip, my wolf realizes this little fox wants to play.

We dart forward and nip at the fox's tail before turning and sprinting a short distance away. With chatter that could easily be mistaken for Stiles' nonstop babbling, the fox gives chase.

We play tag in and around the little clearing for the longest time. It isn't until I hear Scott's howl that I realize I've been out here far longer than I had planned.

We tackle the fox to the ground one last time, and with a harder press of one paw on its muzzle, we tell it to stay before turning and running back to the house.

It is completely dark by the time I'm scratching at the back door. Stiles opens the door and stands there, blocking my way, pretending he doesn't see me. "I swear I heard something, Scott. But I don't see anything." With a shrug, he starts to close the door. "Must have imagined it."

I cuff and force my way inside.

"Oh! Look, Scott. It's Derek."

"Let up, Stiles. He came when I called, didn't he?"

"I was worried." He looks me in the eye. "Go on, I'll be up in a minute. I'll bathe you if you want." Standing on my hind legs, I lick his face. "Yeah, yeah. Now go before Lydia sees you."

"Why don't you want me to see this?" Lydia appears in the door leading into the dining room. "Just because I've never actually seen him in wolf form?" She waves one hand in the air. "I think he's adorable." She sniffs delicately. "But he stinks." With a stomp of her foot, she points at the hall leading to the stairs. "Go bathe."

I blink at her before turning to look at Scott. He holds his hands up in a sign of surrender. "Don't look at me. She scares me."

"Go. Or I'll bathe you myself."

That threat is enough to have both Stiles and me scrambling to leave the kitchen and get up the stairs the soonest.

In our bedroom, I herd him toward the bathroom with my nose pressed against the small of his back.

"Okay, okay. I get it," he laughs, allowing me to push him through our room. "D'ya want me to bathe you in this form?" He pulls his shirt off over his head and I lick my lips. "It has been a few weeks since we've washed your fur, ya know."

He's right. I need to wash my fur. Decision made, I step into the shower stall and sit down in one corner.

"Okay, bathe the wolf it is, then." He follows me in and turns on the water.

Once it's the right temperature, he turns and beckons me forward. I move until I'm standing under the spray and let him wet my coat before working the shampoo into a lather and rinsing it off. Having his hands on me is having the usual reaction, but this time I fight it back. He has made it perfectly clear that he is not attracted to me as a wolf, even though he finds this form adorable. But he is attracted to my Beta shift form. The wolf is slightly mollified, knowing that he will be allowed to fuck our Mate in my Beta form.

When he turns off the spray, I shake as much of the water from my fur as I can, then follow him from the stall. He uses one of our fluffiest towels to dry me off, paying special attention to my ears because he knows how much I love having my ears scratched.

"You are so fucking easy." Wrapping one hand around my muzzle, he places a kiss to my head between my ears. "Now shift back so I can fuck you."

I can see in his eyes that he remembers what happened the last time he fucked me. And while that can't happen again, he does want to try and repeat the experience. Stepping out of his grip, I shift to my Beta form, pick him up, and toss him over my shoulder before carrying him into the bedroom, where I drop him on the bed before climbing up and straddling his hips.

Reaching up, he takes my face in his hands and pulls me down until our faces are almost touching. "You sure about this?" I've only ever ridden him once before, and while it was a bit awkward, and not really very satisfying, I'd like to try it again.

"Yeah."

The scent of his arousal increases and I watch a flush bloom to life in the center of his chest before spreading up into his face. He licks his bottom lip, his hips jerking at just the thought of me riding him. My dick smears precome over his chest when I lean to the side so I can grab the lube from the nightstand.

"Do you want to do it, or do you want me to?" I ask, holding the tube lightly in my hand.

"Oh, God! Just the thought of you…" He swallows thickly and his lids flutter closed. "Want to watch you fuck yourself on your fingers."

Since he doesn't top often, he doesn't get much opportunity to watch me prep myself. After slicking my fingers, I lean back on one hand and reach between my legs. I don't usually take my time, but I want to give him a show, so I slowly run my fingers in circles around my hole for several minutes before slowly pushing two in up to the second knuckle.

The burn is exquisite and has my head dropping back on my neck with a low moan. Scissoring my fingers, I fuck them in and out several times before adding a third. Stiles groans and his hips jerk again. 

When he says my name, he sounds totally wrecked and I find the energy from somewhere to lift my head and give him a grin that is mostly teeth, or rather fangs since I am currently in my Beta form.

"Fuck!" he shouts, grabbing for the base of his dick. "If you don't start riding my dick right now…" He slaps my hand away from my hole and grabs for my hip.

With a chuckle, I allow him to impale me on his cock. We both moan long and low as I slide down until I'm sitting on his hips.

"God, Stiles. So fucking good." I lean down and nuzzle under his jaw, licking at the sweat already gathering there.

He tilts his head back, allowing me better access. I find I want to bite him, leave a more permanent mark than a simple hickey. I have never wanted to bite him before, so I ignore the urge and just continue to lick his throat.

His hands slide down my flanks and grip my ass cheeks, squeezing them before encouraging me to begin to move. Pulling back, I brace myself on my hands so I can stare down into his face and slowly begin to rock my hips. He trails his fingers up my torso to tweak my nipples, pulling a low moan from deep in my throat. His face softens as he runs his fingers along my brows. "So fucking beautiful. No matter what form." The last person to call me beautiful was my mother.

He slides his hands down my arms to my hands. I let him link our fingers together and use his grip on my hands as support for me to really fuck myself on his cock.

My head drops back on my neck just as I begin to feel the tale-tell tingle at the base of my spine. I try to shake one hand free so I can stroke myself, but he tightens his grip.

"Come on just my cock, Derek. I know you can do it." His voice holds a quiet authority that I can't help by obey. And before I know it, the world explodes behind my closed lids. Stiles bucks up into me a couple more times before I feel his come coating my insides.

Somehow he still has enough energy to use our linked hands to pull me down to lie on top of him. But the moment he urges me to tuck my head under his chin, I remember his bruised ribs and roll us so that he's stretched out on top of me.

He braces his hands on my shoulders and tries to glare down at me, but his orgasm has left him too sated for it to have much heat. "What the fuck?"

I run my fingers over the bruise on his side, pulling the pain. "You're still injured, Stiles. I think we can cuddle in this position just as well, don't you?"

He huffs but tucks his head under my chin. We lie there for several minutes before he pulls out and reaches for a couple of wet wipes to clean us with. He then rolls over to his side of the bed, his back to me. I curl around him, resting my hand low on his belly. He places his hand over mine, linking our fingers again, and snuggles back against me. The wolf is just about purring at this further proof that our Mate is content with us.

Once I'm confident he's asleep, I slip from the bed and pull on a pair of sleep pants out of respect for the Humans living in the house.

Stepping out on the back porch, I'm surprised to find Scott curled up on one of the porch beds, textbooks scattered all around.

"It's late," I say, frowning at the young Alpha.

"Yeah. With all the excitement over Stiles, I forgot I have a paper due Monday."

"And you just have to do it at 4 in the morning?"

He shrugs. "I'd rather get it done when there's less chance of some emergency forcing me to not finish it. And Allison snores."

I shrug. "Okay." Pulling off my pants, I stuff them under one of the benches.

"Derek," he calls before I can shift. "Don't make me have to call you again. It worries Stiles." And that is probably the closest he'll ever come to telling me he cares about me.

With a nod, I say, "Sorry about that. I had met a young fox that wanted to play."

"Okay. But I'm just saying." He gives me a look that he must have picked up from his mother.

I give him a small smile. "I hear you. Tell Stiles I'm going to look for clues. I'll do my best to be back by lunch."

"See that you are." Having issued his warning, he returns his attention to his books.

It's times like this that it rankles having an Alpha so much younger than me. But I don't want the responsibility ever again, so I push my irritation away and shift while jumping off the porch.

I know Stiles arrived from the front, but something is telling me to start in the back. Putting my nose to the ground, I trot along a line of unfamiliar scent until it blends with where Stiles entered the front yard from. I stand there for several minutes and stare up at the window into the room I share with the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. Stiles' scent mixes so heavily with the other that I know whoever took him stood here and watched our house. I just can't figure out why.

With a full body shake, I remind myself that I need to get on with my search so I can be back before Stiles gets too worried.

Giving a soft cuff, I turn and put my nose to the ground again. Stiles' scent leads me in a straight line for nearly a mile before veering off to the left. It then runs parallel to the main road for a while before swerving between the trees and doubling back on itself several times.

I stop and sit down in the middle of a smallish clearing that has Stiles' scent all over it, showing that he stumbled in circles for a while before figuring out which direction to go in. Tilting my head, I wonder if he might have a concussion. But he hasn't shown any of the signs of one, so maybe his confusion was due to him having been drugged along with having his sense of direction screwed with because of the blindfold.

Huffing a breath, I get up and concentrate on the scent trail until I find where he entered the clearing. I follow that to the right until I come to the main road. Stiles' scent is extremely strong in the ditch next to the road, and I know this is where he woke up. The unfamiliar scent from near the house is here, too. I follow it up the side of the ditch where it disappears, telling me this is where they stopped their car.

Knowing I won't be able to follow the scent from here, I sit down and hang my head. I had been hoping to be able to find the asshole who took Stiles.

Just as I start to turn back, I see a small pool of oil. The car has an oil leak. This I can use. I follow the oil trail for a short time before realizing I can't do this without help. With an excited yip, I turn and run back to the house.

The sun is just beginning to peek over the tops of the trees when I trot through the backyard, shifting back to Human as I do so. Once on the porch, I pull my sleep pants back on and enter the house.

"Where have you been?" Erica demands from where she's sitting at the table, munching on an apple.

"Not that it's any of your business, but I went looking for clues," I say, not even stopping on my way through the kitchen.

She nods. "Find any?"

With a slight shrug, I answer, "Maybe."

"Not an answer, Hale!" she calls after me.

"Do not care." It feels incredible to have the house full of people again and to know that I can respond to anything they say from another room without yelling.

Upstairs, I step out of my sleep pants and into the shower. Stiles joins me a few minutes later. He wraps his arms around my waist and presses his face against the back of my neck. "You smell like outside." His voice is muffled by my skin.

"I went looking for clues."

"Yeah?" I feel more than hear his yawn.

Chuckling softly, I turn in his arms, not even remotely surprised to find him standing there with his eyes closed. "Why don't you go back to bed?" Pressing a kiss to his forehead, I push on his hip.

"Cause you're not in it." He steps closer and tucks his face against my neck. "It's cold 'nd lonely without you."

"I would love nothing more than to crawl back into bed with you but I found something that I need your dad to look at."

He whines and shuffles closer. "Can't it wait?"

"No. It's been almost two days already, Stiles." He hums, and I know he's on the verge of falling back to sleep; that's something I can't let him do. "C'mon, Stiles. Back to bed with you."

Turning off the water, I dry him off before leading him to our bed, where I tuck him in. He whines low in his throat and wraps his fingers around my wrist. "Stay." His voice takes on a petulant quality.

"I really can't, Stiles." I brush the hair back from his temple and press a kiss to his skin. "I love you."

"Mm," he hums, tugging on my wrist. "Always?"

A smile curves the corners of my mouth. "Always." I drop a kiss to the corner of his lips. When I pull back, he kisses the air before rolling over and burying his face in my pillow. I make sure the covers are tucked around him, then get dressed and grab my phone off the bedside table before exiting our room and heading outside where I dial John's number.

 _"Derek?"_ John's voice cracks with worry.

"Stiles is fine." The relief is evident in his sigh. "Sorry, didn't think you'd jump to that conclusion."

 _"Normally I wouldn't. But after Friday-"_ He doesn't need to finish that sentence.

"Yeah." Out on the front porch, I lean against one of the posts. "So, I went looking for clues and I think I found something."

_"Oh, yeah, What?"_

"I think the car has an oil leak. But I can't follow it by myself."

_"Okay. I'll over in a few minutes."_

"Great. Oh, and John? I need you to bring a few things with you."

He expresses surprise at my requests and asks if I'm sure, then agrees and hangs up.

Twenty minutes later, we're approaching the spot I marked after finding it this morning.

"Here?" John asks, pulling his SUV off the road and setting the hazards.

"Yeah. I marked it."

He frowns at me. "Marked it how?" When I just raise one brow, he rolls his eyes and chuckles. "Of course." Shaking his head, he gets out of the car.

"I made sure to mark it outside the area with the heaviest scents." I join him on the side of the road. "You brought what I asked for?"

He nods. "It's in the back." He points at the SUV with his thumb. "I gotta ask again: are you sure you want to do this?"

I nod, making my way around the SUV to enter the backseat from the passenger side. "It's the only way to make sure it can't be thrown out." I hear his grudgingly accepting sigh just as I climb into the SUV and begin undressing. When I've finished shifting, I cuff to get him to let me out.

He opens the door, and I jump down to stand next to him, waiting while he gets the collar and vest. The vest feels odd wrapping around my body, and the look on his face as he clips it in place shows he feels weird putting it on me. I lick his face to try and make him feel better.

"Ugh. Please don't do that. It's weird enough treating you like a dog." He wipes his cheek off on his sleeve.

I let my tongue hang out of my mouth in my version of a laugh.

"Yeah, yeah. So glad you find this funny," he grumbles, reaching back into the SUV for the collar and leash.

Holding the collar up, he looks at me. "I have never thought about how oppressive putting a collar on a dog is. I mean, they're bred to serve us but still. This just feels all kinds of wrong. If you hadn't have suggested it, I probably wouldn't have even have thought about doing this." When he continues to hesitate, I sit down and put one paw on his arm, ducking my head and silently asking him to get on with it.

He takes a deep breath. "Okay. Here goes." He slips the collar around my neck and buckles it, sliding a couple of fingers between it and my neck to make sure it isn't too tight. "Is that okay?" I cuff and sniffle at his cheek. He flinches back and almost falls on his butt. "I'll take that as a yes." 

I tilt my head to the side and raise my brows. "Those things speak volumes no matter what form you're in, huh?" I give a small bark.

"Oh, so you do know how to bark." He nods, a smile curving his lips. "Okay, let's do this." He stands up and takes the leash in his hand. "Can you do this from the side of the road since we can't close it to traffic?"

With a small cuff, I trot over to the other side of the road and sniff around the puddle of oil.

He joins me. "Is this it?" Crouching down, he takes a Q-tip from his pocket and rolls it in the oil before securing it in a baggie and putting it back in his pocket. "Okay. Let's see where this leads," he says with a nod.

With my nose to the ground, I begin following the trail of oil away from where the man I love is sleeping secure in our house.

I try to keep the pace slow, ever mindful that John can't run as fast as I can, but it's difficult. The wolf knows this is how we'll get the person responsible for hurting our Mate, and he wants revenge like he's never wanted anything before.

I'm not sure how long we've been following the trail, but John's breathing is starting to become labored when we come upon a driveway to our left. The oil trail is coming from there! I pick up the pace and John loses his grip on the leash.

"Derek!" he calls, but I ignore him.

I follow the trail around a curve in the drive and come to a stop, my heart falling into my stomach. The house is a pile of ash with a couple of firetrucks still raining water down on it. 

"Derek! Don't do that again!" John scolds, picking up the leash and giving it a tug to get my attention.

But I can't take my eyes off the smoldering husk that was once the house where Stiles was abused.

"Is there a problem?" A man wearing a turnout coat and pants approaches. "Oh, Sheriff Stilinski!"

"Brad." John greets the man. "What happened?"

"Don't know. Got an anonymous call alerting us to the fire. By the time we got here it was pretty much gone." My ass hits the ground as I feel the rug being pulled out from under my feet. "Hey, didn't know you had a dog." Brad ruffles my head, and I fight the urge to growl and snap at him.

"He's not mine. But he is working, so please don't touch him."

"Sorry." I can hear the laughter in Brad's tone, and a soft growl escapes. 

John knees my side and I know he heard it. "I don't know if you heard, but my son was kidnapped for a few hours Friday." Brad makes a noise that John takes as agreement. "We found a puddle of oil near where Stiles says he was dumped when they let him go. None of the dogs in the department can follow chemicals other than drugs so we're borrowing Derek here from the FBI."

"Derek, huh?" Brad sucks on his teeth. My ears flatten against my head as I fight the urge to shift back and punch his teeth down his throat. "He looks like a wolf. Aren't wolf dogs illegal?"

I turn my head sharply to my right and find Brad's crotch _right there_. I curl my lip in a soft snarl, but before I can do anything, John tugs on the leash.

"He doesn't have any wolf in him. He's that breed that movie people use when the script needs a wolf." He sighs and pushes me to the side with his knee. "Guess we'll head back since all our evidence is nothing but ash now."

"What? You think Stiles was held here?"

"The trail leads here, so, yeah."

"Fuck, John." Brad's boots scrape against the ground when he turns to face the house. "Look, my guys still have to investigate the cause of the fire. If we find anything, I'll let you know."

"Thanks, Brad." They shake hands, and John tugs me away from the scene.

"Sorry about that, Derek," John says once we're out of sight of the fire captain. "Also, what the hell?" I ignore him and trot a few paces ahead of him, my ears pricked forward. "I know you can hear me. Stop ignoring me." I flick one ear back towards him but don't stop. "Damn stubborn Werewolf," he mutters, but there's affection in his tone.

My wolf is happy at this proof that our Mate's father approves of us.

Back at the SUV, John lets me into the backseat, and I change back before climbing into the front seat.

"I get that this was not the outcome we were hoping for," he says, putting the SUV in gear and turning it back toward the house. "But Brad's men are excellent at their jobs. If there is any evidence to be found, they'll find it."

I nod. "I hear you. I should have done this yesterday."

"Shoulda, coulda, woulda. You'll drive yourself crazy if you keep thinking like that."

Frowning at his profile, I ask, "What are you saying?"

"If I've learned anything in my years in this job, it's that questioning your decisions will do nothing but have you questioning everything. You need to learn to trust your gut. If it told you to comfort Stiles yesterday, then that was the right thing to do."

"Thing is, I didn't even think to go looking for clues until early this morning." My incompetence is choking me, and I have to blink back tears.

John's hand landing on my arm has me flinching. He squeezes reassuringly before letting go. "Stiles is safe now. You can't be with him all the time. Trust when I say that beating yourself up when he gets hurt will just leave you exhausted. Protecting Stiles is a full time job and not one that can be done alone. I had Scott and Melissa after Claudia died. You have me and the Pack. But even so, Stiles has a way of getting into trouble. Only thing to do is try and mitigate the damage as much as possible by teaching him how to protect himself."

I frown at his profile. "But you've never taught him any self-defense."

John takes a deep breath. "Not for lack of trying. Have you noticed how clumsy he can be?"

A small smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. Stiles seems to be all legs and arms. It's something I'm hoping he'll grow out of. "His clumsiness can be useful."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"You find a way to teach him how to defend himself, and I'll help when and where I can."

"Okay."

"Okay." He looks over at me as he turns onto the road leading to the house, and we share a smile.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this, there are two maybe three, more chapters, and then the epilogue. Most of the rest of this is written and I have a week's vacation coming up so I'm hoping to have this series finished around the first of the year.

When Scott and the other Betas moved in, I insisted the ones with living parents tell them about being supernatural creatures. Only Jackson and Erica's parents refused to believe when first told. But by the time Thanksgiving rolls around, they've all accepted that their pups are no longer Human.

With the house full of people again, I suggest we all have Thanksgiving at the house. Everyone loves the idea. Lydia immediately orders four turkeys and four hams, stressing that not everyone likes turkey. It's decided that the families will bring a side dish that is traditional for their family and that I'll make the desserts.

And that is how I find myself at the grocery store in the middle of the day, the Monday before Thanksgiving.

I'm in the spice aisle trying to remember if I have enough spices to make my mother's pumpkin pie when a deep voice calls my name. Turning, I find Boyd's father standing there, smiling at me. "Mr. Boyd." I extend my hand.

"Please, call me Marcus," he says, shaking my hand. "I'm glad I ran into you."

My brows climb my forehead. "Oh?"

"Yeah. Miranda and I just wanted to thank you for everything you've done for Vernon."

The heat of a blush rushes up my neck and into my cheeks. "I didn't do all that much."

"On the contrary, Derek. You were there for him when he needed someone. Ever since you bit him, he's been the Vernon I remember from before his sister…" he trails off, but I know what he means. "And Erica! She is just the sort of girl he needs. Keeps him on his toes, she does."

I laugh. "She keeps us all on our toes. But as much as I'd like to take credit for that, it is all Erica."

"She told me that you rejected her and said you had someone else in mind for her."

"When I was the Alpha, yes, I was going to pair them together, but I never told her that."

He shrugs. "Guess she figured he was the one you meant."

"Guess so." With a nod, I start to turn back to the shelves of spices. "See you Thursday."

"I did have one question." I turn back and raise one brow in inquiry. "Miranda is planning on doubling the recipe. Will that be enough?"

I cough to cover my urge to laugh. "Uh, no. Might want to make at least four batches. Weres require a lot of food because our metabolisms are so fast."

He nods and points at me. "Good point." Pulling out his phone, he dials and puts it to his ear. "Thanks, Derek. See you Thursday." And then he's off down the aisle, asking Miranda to text him a list of needed ingredients.  
= = = =  
Thursday morning, I'm in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on the desserts and getting a start on the turkeys and hams before the sun has even breached the horizon. Everyone will be here around ten, so we can make sure everything is ready for us to sit down to eat around noon.

It's been way too long since I've celebrated Thanksgiving, and I discover that I have missed it. Alpha Messer had always invited Laura and me to spend Thanksgiving with him and his family, the Pack was too big for everyone to celebrate it together, but we always declined. It was just too painful a reminder that we were all that was left of our Pack.

Just before ten, my cell rings. "Hello?" I don't even look at the caller ID before answering.

_"Happy Thanksgiving, big bro."_

"Coral!" I'm so surprised at hearing her voice that I forget she doesn't like her name anymore. "How are you?"

_"I'm good. I have some news."_

"Good news or bad news?"

_"That depends."_

"On?"

_"On just how big brotherly you're feeling today."_

"Cora…" I add a hint of a growl to my tone.

Her inhale is audible, and then she says all in a rush, _"The Alpha has asked me to be his Mate."_

I almost drop my phone in the pan with the turkey I'm basting, her news is so surprising. "He did?"

_"Yep."_

"And how do you feel about that?"

 _"Well, I think I might be pregnant, so I'm okay with it."_ There's a pause where I'm afraid we've lost our connection. _"How do you feel about it?"_ Her voice is small, almost as if she expects me to object to the idea of her having a Mate.

"Oh, well, as someone who is newly Mated, I think it's wonderful. Not that you got pregnant first, but things happen. Does he make you happy? Does your wolf dance when he's near?" I can still remember the conversation Mom and I had about Paige and how I'll know when my wolf chooses our Mate.

 _"Oh, yeah."_ I can hear the love she has for this man. Having met him, I know her wolf made an excellent choice. _"She actually said 'ours' when we met him all those years ago. But I had to ignore it because of the age difference."_ Cora's Alpha is two years older than me. Mom might not have chosen him for her, but her wolf couldn't have picked a better Wolf. _"Not to mention, I just_ knew _you and Laura were still alive and I needed to find you."_

"When's the ceremony?"

_"Next week. I don't expect you to attend, just wanted to let you know."_

I probably could go, but I don't want to be away from Stiles that long, and he can't miss that much school. "Okay. Is there anything you need?"

 _"Nope. Not until I know for sure if I am expecting."_ She pauses again. _"I wish Mom was here,"_ she says in a soft voice thick with tears.

"I know. I wish she was, too. This is definitely something you need your mother for." I close the oven with the turkeys and turn to the one with the hams to check on them, too. "How do you get along with his mother?"

 _"Very well. She calls me the daughter of her heart. But it's not the same as having_ my _mother here."_

"I know." I hear someone enter the kitchen and turn to find John carrying a couple of trays full of cornbread dressing. "Hey, Coral, you know I love you and love talking with you, but I'm about to have a houseful. Can I call you back tonight or tomorrow?"

_"Sure. Tell Stiles hi for me."_

"I will. Love you."

_"Love you, too, big bro."_

I press the end button and tuck my phone back in my pocket. "Morning, John. That smells amazing."

He chuckles. "It had better. I was up before the sun since I had to make four batches."

"Just put 'em down right there." I point at the island that I have insisted remain clear so that we can use it for the dressing trays.

"I thought your sister's name was Cora?" he says some minutes later once he's brought the last of the trays inside.

I laugh softly. "It is, legally. But her official name is Coral. She was born when I was six and Mom asked me to name her. My class had just gone to the aquarium and her skin was all pink like some coral I'd seen there. But because I was six, I still couldn't say certain sounds correctly and Mom thought I said Cora."

"Ah. Family nicknames are interesting, aren't they?"

"Except this isn't a family nickname. Growing up, I was the only one allowed to call her that. Then when we reunited after everything, she said she doesn't like it anymore." I shrug.

"I guess she got used to not being called 'Coral' over the years, or just feels she's out grown it."

I shrug again and turn to get the pies out of the fridge and start putting them on the dessert table on the porch. "I guess."

"You must miss her." John helps me get the desserts arranged and starts getting the plates and utensils ready.

"I do. She's about to be Mated to the Alpha of her Pack and thinks she might be expecting already."

"Is this good news?" His tone says he's not sure how to react since he doesn't know enough about Werewolves to know if this situation is acceptable or not.

I laugh and slap him on the shoulder when I pass him. "Absolutely. I'm glad she's happy. Do I wish she had chosen to remain in Beacon Hills with me? Yes. But I know she's happy and healthy and I can talk to her any time I want."

"And it's not like you're alone anymore." He gives me a look that I can't really decipher.

"This is true. I do have you and Stiles and the rest of the Pack. I'm just missing my family today, is all."

"I thought we were your family?" Erica's pouty voice has me rolling my eyes before spinning on my heels to face where she's standing with her parents in the door leading to the main hall.

"Erica, Mr. and Mrs. Reyes." I nod at them. "I meant my blood family, Erica. You know that Pack means family."

"Hm." Erica saunters closer. "Sometimes, a found family is better," she whispers in my ear on her way out to the backyard.

"You'll have to excuse her," Mrs. Reyes says, setting the two aluminum trays she's carrying down on the kitchen table. "You know how she can get."

"Yes," I reply. "And from what Stiles has told me, she wasn't like that until I bit her. So please accept my apology for turning her into a shrew. I was just trying to help her."

"We know, Derek." Mr. Reyes sets his trays down. "Sheriff." He turns to John and they shake hands. "We watching The Cowboys or The Lions, today?"

"Both," John says with a chuckle. "God help us all if they ever play each other on Thanksgiving."

"Ah, that'd never happen since they both always have home games on Thanksgiving Day." John and Mr. Reyes continue to talk football on their way out of the kitchen, headed for the living room and the TV.

"Is there anything I can do to help, Derek?" Mrs. Reyes asks, looking around.

"Um," I also look around. "No. I think I've got everything under control in here.

Just then, Danny and his parents show up, and I realize that the kitchen table will not be big enough for all the side dishes, not even with the leaf.

"Damn," I mutter.

"What's wrong?" Danny asks, pointing his parents at the table.

"We're gonna need more tables for the food. I mean we can put some on the counters but if everyone brings four batches, we're gonna run out of space soon."

"We have a couple of card tables you can use," Mrs. Reyes offers.

"So do we. Don't we, Dad?" Danny turns to his father, who nods.

"Okay. Here," I pull my keys out of my pocket. "Take my car, I mean, the SUV."

"Sure." Danny takes my keys and heads to the front door.

"Danny?" Mrs. Reyes calls him back. "Take Erica with you." She points over her shoulder at the backyard.

"Right." He turns and jogs out the back door.  
= = = =  
Over the next hour, everyone shows up with more food than I've seen since I was a teenager. The turkeys and hams are ready right on time. John, Chris, and Mr. Reyes help me carve them and put the meat on serving platters.

There are so many people that we set up trestle tables in the backyard, and it soon feels just like the Thanksgivings from when I was a kid.

Everyone eats their fill, parades and football games are watched, yard games are played, and even some board games. All in all, it is a very pleasant day. And it's over much too soon.

It's nearly ten that night when Stiles and I finally fall into bed.

"Ugh," he moans, hugging his stomach. "I am stuffed! I don't think I've eaten so much in my life." I just chuckle at his antics. "Oh, sure. Laugh at my pain. Glad to know you care."

"I love you, Stiles." I lean over and press a kiss to his cheek. "And to think we actually have leftovers!"

"Only if no one gets hungry during the night."

"Eh, I wouldn't worry about it. Just about everyone ended the day stuffed to the gills."

He rolls over and wraps his arms around my waist. "It was a good day."

"It was a very good day. Cora called." I haven't had a chance to tell him since this is the first time we've been alone all day.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. She's getting Mated next week and thinks she might be pregnant already."

"Are you gonna go?" He yawns and snuggles closer.

"No. I don't want to leave you alone that long and you can't miss a week of school."

"Hm," he hums, and I know I've almost lost him to sleep. "Should send something, though."

"I will." Pressing a kiss to the top of his head, I wiggle a bit to get more comfortable and then follow him into slumber.  
= = = =  
Over the next few weeks, Christmas decorations begin appearing all over the house. Almost every doorway has a sprig of mistletoe hanging from it, and the Pack avoids it as much as they're able to, unless their chosen partner is nearby. Erica, somehow, manages to catch Boyd under it multiple times a day. But I'm nearly positive he doesn't mind, if the smile on his face after she kisses him is any indication.

It's decided that everyone will spend Christmas with just their respective families. Those without parents, Ethan, Isaac, Parrish, and Malia, spend it with their partner's family.

Stiles and John had a tradition of spending the day with Scott and Melissa. And this year, Allison, Chris, and I are included.

"I noticed that there aren't any Hanukkah decorations anywhere around the house," I say, staring at Stiles in the mirror as he brushes his teeth.

He spits, then says, "We don't observe any of the holidays. We only do Christmas because Melissa has invited us over ever since Mom died."

"I see." I lean one hip against the counter next to him. "Do you want to start celebrating them?"

He shrugs, wiping his mouth on the hand towel. "I think Mom was the more religious of the two. Dad's never talked like his family celebrated the High Holy Days."

I nod. "Okay. If you ever change your mind, I'm more than willing to learn about your Jewish heritage."

"How'd you know we're Jewish, anyway?"

"C'mon, Stiles. Your last name's Stilinski and your family's from Poland. Wasn't hard to put it together."

"Fair enough. Ready to go?"  
= = = =  
At Melissa's, the house has more decorations than I've ever seen on one house at any one time. It's almost as if she uses every single decoration she's ever bought over the years. If I didn't know better, I'd say a Christmas store threw up on her house.

"Please forgive the tackiness of the decorations. It's a tradition that every decoration we own must be used." She shakes her head. "I keep trying to throw some away but they all have such wonderful memories tied to them."

John and Chris pull me into their discussion of the recent NBA games. None of us agree on which team has the best lineup, and it quickly devolves into a friendly argument. An argument that Melissa puts an end to when she announces that lunch is ready.

After a very filling meal, we adjourn to the living room and the huge tree surrounded by piles of presents. Eventually, there's just one left.

Scott hands the ring box sized package to Allison. "I've thought long and hard about how I wanted to do this." He clears his throat and goes to one knee in front of where she's sitting on the couch.

"Hey, now!" Chris grumbles. "This isn't what we discussed."

Scott looks at him and nods. "Yes, sir, I know. But I don't want to wait and risk losing it."

Chris sighs and nods. "Fair enough."

"Allison, I love you. I love you more than I ever thought it possible to love another person." He takes the box from her and opens it, turning it so she can see the inside. "Will you marry me?"

There's a long moment of silence in which Allison just stares at Scott, her mouth slightly open. Just when I think she might turn him down, her hands fly to her face and she shrieks, "Yes! Yes, I will." She throws herself into his arms and kisses him. "I love you, too." She holds her left hand out for Scott to put the ring on her finger when she pulls back. "But did you really ask my father for permission?"

"No!" Scott looks horrified at the thought. "No, I asked for his approval and blessing. I knew you'd want me to have that first."

Allison holds her hand up so she can admire the light glinting off the small diamond in the ring Scott put on her finger. "You're right about that." She sighs dreamily. "It's lovely, Scott." Then she jumps up. "I gotta call Lydia and Erica and Malia and Kira and Hayden!" She rushes from the room, already dialing her phone.

"Well, the girls will be hell to live with for the next several months," Stiles mutters.

"It had better be longer than a few months," Chris says, looking at Scott.

"Yes, sir. I remember your condition. College first, then marriage."

All three adults sigh in relief that there won't be a wedding any time soon. But Scott's proposal has me thinking. And if I get my way, there just might be one sooner than they want.  
= = = =  
The last week of December is busier than usual for me as my accountants try to get everything tied up for the year end reporting to the IRS. I soon find myself hating the decision to purchase rental properties as a source of income.

New Year's Eve is spent quietly at home with Stiles. The rest of the Pack go out to ring in the new year, but Stiles and I decide to stay home. We spend the evening snuggling on the couch and reading in front of a fire.

Just before midnight, he turns to me. "I've always wanted to be fucking the person I'm in love with at midnight on New Year's Day."

"That right?" I turn the page in my book.

"Derek!" Stiles playfully slaps my left shoulder with his book.

I turn to frown at him. "What?"

"I want to fuck you into next year."

The corners of my lips twitch as I try to keep the grin off my face. "You do?"

He makes a sound of frustration in the back of his throat and stands up, pulling me up with him. "Yes! Now c'mon."

I allow him to pull me up the stairs and into our bedroom where, with a tug, I have him falling into me. "And what if _I_ want to fuck _you_ into next year?"

His pupils dilate even further and he licks his bottom lip. "I think I can get on board with that instead."

"Yeah?"

When he nods, I grab him under his thighs and toss him backward onto the bed. He lands with a bounce. I strip while stalking where he's lying sprawled on the bed. He throws his head back and laughs before quickly divesting himself of his clothes.

"God, I love you so much," he says against my lips when I climb up on the bed to steal a kiss.

I make love to him for the rest of the night. By the time the sun is coming up, we're lying in an exhausted heap, sweat and come drying on our bodies. "We should probably take a shower before we fall asleep," he says around a yawn.

"Probably but I'm too tired to move."

"Mm," he hums, burrowing closer with his face pressed to my chest.

With a soft chuckle, I wrap my arms tighter and settle in to get some sleep with the man I love safe and secure in my arms.  
= = = =  
The dream starts the same as it always does: I'm racing through the woods in my wolf form. Only this time, I know that Stiles is around somewhere because we're playing tag. 

I'm not sure which of us is 'it' right now, but it doesn't matter. I'm having fun with my Mate, and that's all I care about in this moment.

Suddenly, I'm standing in front of the Nemeton, and there's another black wolf standing on top of it. I recognize her: it's my mother.

I shift back to Human, and she does the same, and in the way of dreams, she's wearing her favorite pale blue robe.

"Oh, my beautiful boy!" she exclaims, stepping toward me with her arms outstretched.

I haven't seen her since I had Peter use her claws to help me speak to her, and I find that I have missed her so very much. A sob takes me by surprise, and then I'm being folded into her embrace and rocked gently side to side with her crooning softly into my ear.

Eventually, my sobs taper off, and I pull back to look at her. She wipes the tears from my face, and I can see the soft smile on her face.

"I am so sorry, Mama."

"Oh, my darling boy. You have nothing to be sorry for."

I shake my head. "I do. I wasn't a good son and then I had Peter help me come to demand answers from you…"

"Oh, Derek." Tears slip down her face. "I totally understood. We both made mistakes but they're in the past. Let's concentrate on the here and now. Hm?" She pats my shoulder and urges me to sit down on the stump.

"Not to be rude or anything, but why are you here?"

"I know about your dreams."

I stiffen. I never told anyone other than Stiles about the dreams. "What?"

"I've come to give you a warning." Panic flutters to life in my chest. My most recent dreams have been about Stiles. "Evil still lurks. You must watch your back. Tell Scott. It's his duty as the Alpha to protect the Pack."

"What kind of evil?"

She shakes her head. "That's all I'm allowed to say." She jerks her head to the side, scanning the treeline. "I have to go. I love you, my son." She takes my face in her hands and tilts my head down so she can press a kiss to my forehead. Before I can tell her I love her, too, she's gone.

Usually, after one of these dreams, I wake screaming, but not this time. No, this time, I wake slowly with tears on my face and 'Mama' on my lips.  
= = = =  
The next day, Stiles drags me into town to hit the after Christmas sales. He says he's decided he's going to buy all the gifts he can, now, so that he doesn't have to worry about it later.

We've just returned to the car with the fifth, and what I'm hoping is the final, load of packages, when Stiles says he wants to go into one more store and asks that I not go in with him.

"Why?" I frown at him.

"Because it's a gift for you. I left it for last to make sure I have enough money." He places a chaste kiss to my lips. "Besides, the shop's right here." He points over his shoulder at the storefront right in front of where we're parked.

And right next door is a jewelry store. "Okay. I'll be right here." With another kiss, I wait for him to enter the store and then head into the jewelers.

"Hello!" A portly man of about fifty greets me. "How may I assist you today?"

"I'm looking for an engagement ring for my boyfriend." And doesn't that still feel odd to say? My boyfriend. Stiles Stilinski is my boyfriend and, if I have my way, he'll soon be my fiance and then my husband.

"How wonderful!" He steps to a case to his left. "Our men's engagement rings are over here."

The selection isn't as large as those for women, but it is still larger than I expected. Luckily one ring captures my attention right away. "That one." I stab one finger against the glass. "That's the one."

"Excellent choice." He unlocks the little door at the back and lifts the ring out, still in its box. "It can be used as a wedding ring or paired with another one." He holds the box out to me, and I pluck the ring out to look it over. 

I don't know Stiles' ring size, but his fingers are thinner than mine, so I figure his ring finger just might be about the same size as my pinky, so I slip the ring on the smallest digit. It's a bit snug, but we can get it sized after I propose, if needed.

A pleased grin spreads over my face. "I'll take it." I set the ring back in the box.

"Excellent!" He motions me to follow him around to the back of the store where the register is.

After putting a, not insignificant, dent in the balance of my credit card, I exit the shop, tucking the ring box into one of my jacket pockets.

A quick look through the windows of the shop Stiles went into shows that it's just crowded enough that he could still be waiting in line, so I get into the car and settle behind the wheel with my phone, prepared to wait for several more minutes.

I get so engrossed in the book I'm reading on my Kindle app, that it isn't until my stomach rumbles that I realize it's been over an hour and Stiles still hasn't come out of the store. Surely they aren't that busy.

Getting out of the car, I enter the shop and immediately sneeze as my senses are bombarded by dozens of different scents, all fighting for dominance. The crowd has thinned somewhat, but the shop is so crowded with overstuffed shelves that it's difficult to see if Stiles is still in here. And locating his scent is useless with all the scented products on display. I try locating his heartbeat and can't find it. Panic starts to build and I push past customers in search of an employee.

"Excuse me?" I locate a young woman straightening ceramic figurines on a shelf near the back. "Have you seen this man?" I open my phone and show her a picture of Stiles taken on Christmas morning modeling the new Batman tee shirt John got him.

She frowns at the picture for a few seconds before her face brightens. "Yes! He wasn't feeling well so I let his friends take him to the bathroom." She points at a door with a sign that says 'Employees only'.

"Do you mind if I…" I nod my head toward the door.

"Um, well, I really wasn't supposed to let them…" She chews on her bottom lip.

"He's my boyfriend. If he's sick, I should get him home." I give her my best smile.

She looks around, even goes up on tiptoe, to make sure we're not being observed. "Well, okay. But just to the bathroom and right back out." She steps to the door and opens it for me.

"Thank you," I say, slipping through and raising my head to try and catch Stiles' scent.

The products' scents aren't as strong in here, since they're all in boxes, but they're still heavy enough to cover Stiles' scent. I manage to locate it near the door leading out to the alley behind the building. The door is propped open, so I push it further open and step out into the late afternoon sunshine.

Stiles' scent is stronger here, and it reeks of fear and pain. The wolf pushes against the surface and my claws extend from my fingertips before I can force him back. Now is not the time to shift. We must keep a level head so we can find our Mate.

Stiles' scent gets softer toward the middle of the alley and I know they put him in a car. I don't even try to follow it, just pull my phone out of my pocket and dial John, all while fighting my rising panic.  
= = = =  
About ten minutes after I hang up from telling him that I lost his son, John and Parrish find me standing bent over at the waist with my hands braced on my knees in the alley. My breathing is ragged, and my heart is beating so hard in my chest, I'm afraid I'm about to have a heart attack.

"Derek?" John places one hand lightly on my back. "Derek, we're here."

"Gone…" A sob forces its way up my throat. "He's...gone…"

"We'll find him." Parrish crouches down so that he can look me in the eye. "Right now, we need you to try and calm down so we can get all the information you have."

"Parrish," John says. "Why don't you take the other deputies inside and start questioning the employees?" He makes it a question, but it's actually an order.

I see Parrish's lips thin, but he does as ordered.

"Now. C'mon." John helps me stand upright. "Breathe with me." He takes and releases a slow breath. I try and copy him, but my breathing just keeps hitching. But John is patient, and he keeps taking and releasing slow breathes until I am breathing easy again. "Better?"

"No," I grumble, pulling a soft chuckle from him.

"What can you tell me?"

"We spent the day shopping. About an hour ago he asked to go into this shop alone to get me a gift. I waited in the car. I lost track of time and by the time I realized it had been too long and entered the store looking for him, they had him." Panic is building again, and John puts his left hand on my chest and just breathes slowly until I'm breathing with him.

"When you entered the shop?"

"I couldn't find his scent due to the products they sell. I tried to find his heartbeat but I can't hear it! I've never not been able to hear it. Even when he was taken before. I could barely hear it, but it was still there." A sob climbs the back of my throat, and I swallow it because I know if I let it out it would turn into a mournful howl.

"Okay. Then what?"

"I asked an employee if she had seen him. She said he wasn't feeling well so she let his friends take him to the bathroom. His scent lead there." I point at the spot in the middle of the alley where his scent disappears.

"So they put him in a car." John crouches down and touches a spot on the ground, bringing his fingers to his nose while rubbing the substance between his fingers and thumb. "Is this the same oil?" He stands and holds his fingers out to me. I lean in and sniff.

"Yes. You think they decided to take him again?"

"It's starting to look like that."

"But why? They let him go so why take him again?"

John shrugs. "At this point I don't care. And I can assure you I will not be asking if I find them first. These assholes have taken my son, twice, they need to pay for that."

I just blink at him. As sheriff, I thought he'd be all for bringing them to justice, but it sounds like the father in him is demanding they be punished in a way that only a father can.  
= = = =  
John calls Scott and has Allison drop him off so he can drive me back to the house. Once there, I strip and shift before tossing my head back and howling. I can see Scott fighting the urge to respond to my searching howl since it's for Stiles, not him. 

When we don't get a response from our Mate, the wolf takes control and sprints into the woods, running from the pain of not being able to hear him.

Every so often, we hear Scott howling for us, but we ignore it. We've found a den deep in the woods where we can hide. 

I've lost track of time when we hear Scott's howl, and this time, something tells us we need to respond to it. So we drag ourselves back to the house. John is standing next to his radio car with a plastic bag in his hand. Inside the bag is the shirt Stiles was wearing.

We come to a stop just inside the yard. We lower our head and flatten our ears to the sides of our head because we know what that bag means.

John crouches down. "Derek." His voice is softer than I've ever heard it. "We need your help, please."

We want to refuse. We're afraid of what that bag means, but there is a small part that tells he could still be alive and if we help, he could be found before it's too late. So we walk slowly to where John is still crouched next to his car.

He smiles sadly at us and holds the open bag out toward us. We stick our nose into it, and instantly Stiles' scent hits us square in the face. Under the delicious scent is the scent of blood, fear, and pain. So much pain. With a whine, we turn and run back to our den. There is only one thing those scents can mean: our Mate is dead, and for some reason, we missed our connection with him breaking.  
= = = =  
We both lose track of time, curled into our den deep in the woods as we are. We've stopped eating and only stick our nose out to drink the rain or dew when our tongue sticks to the roof of our mouth. We no longer care if we live or die. No, that's not true. We want to die so we can join Stiles.

We're convinced that death isn't far away when we hear a noise outside our den. The wind shifts, and familiar scents come to us. Our Pack has found us.

We press against the back of our den, hoping they won't see us and will go away, leaving us to die.

"Derek?" John's concerned face appears in the opening to our den. "Derek." He lies down on his stomach so that he can see us better. "Come out, son. We found him. We found Stiles. He's alive. He's gonna want to see you when he wakes up."

We want to believe him; he wouldn't lie about this, would he? But the part of me that knows I don't deserve to be loved by anyone, much less someone as good as Stiles, refuses to believe. With a whine, I scoot back as far as I can.

The wolf wants to surge forward and run all the way to the hospital, except that we have no energy since we haven't eaten in days.

"Here, Derek. I knew you wouldn't believe me." John shoves one arm into our den, his hand gripping his phone.

On the screen, Lydia's tear streaked face is blinking at me. _"Derek?"_ She starts crying again. _"Oh, God, Derek!"_ She sobs quietly for a moment, then wipes her cheeks. _"Look."_ She turns her phone until I can see Stiles lying in a hospital bed with wires and tubes attached to nearly every inch of skin. _"Come home, Derek. Stiles needs you."_

"See? Stiles is alive. The doctors say he should make a full recovery. Only thing he needs now, is you." John puts his phone away and reaches back into our den, his hand open and stretched as far as he can reach. "Please, Derek. Let us help you."

The wolf whimpers, and I can't keep it from slipping past our lips. Slowly, oh so slowly, I begin shuffling forward until John can grab the scruff of my neck and help me the rest of the way out.

When I try to stand, I find that I can't. I can barely lit my head. Parrish steps up and crouches down. "I'm going to carry you." I just close my eyes and let him do what needs to be done.  
= = = =  
I don't know how much time has passed when I am once again aware of my surroundings. The scents and sounds tell me I'm in the vet clinic, which makes sense since I still don't have the energy to shift back.

John is dozing in a chair next to the table I'm lying on. With a small sound, I alert him to the fact that I'm awake. "Derek!" He tries to smile, but the strain of having both Stiles and me in the hospital shows in the lines on his face. "Let me get Deaton."

"No need." Deaton enters the treatment room. "How are you feeling?" He places one hand on my flank.

I lick my lips and lay my head back down when I still can't shift back.

"It's okay, Derek. You were missing for two weeks. From the condition of the den we found you in, it's obvious you didn't eat anything in that whole time. It'll take time to get your strength back." Deaton begins checking my vitals. "I still don't like the sound of your heart but since you still haven't had anything other than IV fluids, it's to be expected." And that's when I become aware that there is a catheter in my bladder. "Think you can try some solid food?" He rubs my head between my ears.

From somewhere, I find the energy to roll over to my stomach and lick my lips. "I'd say he likes that idea," John says with a chuckle.

"Good." Deaton gives one last scratch. "After you eat, we'll see if you're strong enough to stand. If you are, we'll take out the catheter."

I cuff and push my head against his hip, telling him to get the food already.

Several minutes later, I have eaten a whole jar of pureed meat. John and Deaton lift me off the table and set me on my feet. I wobble for a few seconds but then find my balance. 

"Good. That's good." They put me back on the table, and embarrassment floods my body as Deaton removes the catheter before they put me back on the floor. 

Slowly, I make my way to the back door, intent on emptying my bladder myself.

That business taken care of, I again try to shift back. After several minutes, I collapse in a frustrated heap on top of the blankets piled in a corner of Deaton's office. "Have patience, Derek," Deaton says. "It's only been a week since we found you."

My head snaps up. A week! It's been three weeks since I last saw Stiles and a week since he was found. I wanted to be the first face he saw when he woke up. I whine low in my throat and lay my head back down on my paws.

"Stiles is still in a coma. The doctors had to put him in a medically induced coma due to the severity of his injuries." He leans over, resting his elbows on his knees, and looks me in the eye. "Keep trying. They say they're going to ease off the sedation in another week. If you want to be there when he wakes up, you need to be Human."

With a huff, I close my eyes and fall asleep.  
= = = =  
It takes me two more days before I'm able to shift back. When I do, I nearly pass out from the energy needed.

"How do you feel?" Deaton asks, watching Melissa take my blood pressure.

"Exhausted." My voice is scratchy from lack of use. I'm surprised I'm not nonverbal due to being stuck as a wolf for nearly a month, and from the look on his face, so is Deaton.

"To be expected."

"His pressure's still low but since he's malnourished and dehydrated, it's not surprising."

"When?" It hurts to talk, so I decide to stick to as few words as necessary.

Melissa and Deaton share a look. "Tomorrow? I'll clear it with John." I frown at her. "Stiles is in a locked ward. Family only unless approved by the family."

I nod. It makes sense that John would want Stiles protected when he can't be there.  
= = = =  
The next day, I'm taken to the hospital and up to Stiles' room.

Stiles is still in his coma, and he looks so small in the bed surrounded by all the machines.

I kick off my shoes and climb up onto the bed. Luckily Melissa is the only nurse in the room, and she helps me get settled without dislodging anything.

Somehow, Melissa convinces the other nurses to let me remain curled around Stiles. Every time a nurse comes into the room, they remind me to 'watch the wires and tubes'. As if I'd forget he's hooked up to so many different pieces of equipment that I sometimes lose the sound of his breathing and heartbeat in the various beeps and chirps they all make.

By the end of that first week, Stiles is awake. Mine is the first face he sees. He gives me a small smile, then promptly falls back asleep. Melissa laughs and says it's to be expected, that he'll be able to stay awake longer the next time.

The next time is just a few hours later. "Water." Stile's voice is wrecked. 

I wasn't told the extent of his injuries, I didn't want to know, but I was told that it's apparent he was tortured, so it's possible he injured his vocal cords screaming in pain. The wolf wants to find the bastards and kill them all over again.

Shortly after I woke up, Parrish visited and told me he had to shoot and kill the man and woman who were holding Stiles hostage. I was still in wolf form, so I licked his hand in thanks. He just rubbed my head and whispered, 'you're welcome' before all but running out of the clinic.

By the end of the first full week after Stiles wakes up, the doctors begin making noise about him going home, but then he gets a rather nasty infection. At first, they think I might have brought in some outside bacteria, but that's quickly ruled out and chalked up to one of those things that happen sometimes.

It takes nearly three more weeks before he's healthy enough to be discharged.

The drive home in the back of John's SUV is one of only a handful of times where he hasn't been chatting my ear off, and it worries me. That and the fact that he hasn't let me touch him since I helped him into the SUV at the hospital.

When we arrive at the house, he swats my hand away and climbs down on his own. "Not an invalid, Derek."

"I know but you were just in the hospital for close to two months. The doctor said to not let you overdo it."

"You can come stay with me," John interjects. "I sure would love to have you."

"Except the doctor wants someone home with him," I remind him.

"I could take a sabbatical."

"It's fine, Dad." Stiles shrugs off our efforts to assist him and shuffles up the steps and into the house.

"Just be patient with him, Derek," John says, resting one hand on my shoulder. "He's been through a lot these past few months."

I sigh deeply. "I know. But it's hard. The wolf just wants to curl around him and protect him. And to be honest, so do I. He's our Mate and he's hurting. Instinct says I need to comfort with touch and grooming."

"He'll come back to you when he's ready." With a squeeze to my shoulder, he climbs back into his SUV. "Call if you need me." With a wave, he starts the vehicle and heads off down the drive.

For the remainder of the day, Stiles makes sure he's in whichever room I'm not. If I happen to walk into a room he's in, he gets up and leaves. It's starting to give me a complex.

But finally, it's time for bed. I head upstairs, ready to crawl under the covers and snuggle with my Mate. 

Only he has other ideas.

After brushing my teeth, pointedly ignoring the glare pointed at the back of my head, I move toward the bed, but he stops me with one word: no. I spin on my heels to face him, convinced I heard him wrong.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

He lifts his chin and drops his arms to his side, fighting for all he's worth to appear strong. "I can't sleep in that bed with you."

"Then I'll sleep on the floor." I go to grab my pillow.

"No," he says again.

And once again, I turn to look at him; my eyes narrowed in rising anger. Anger I have no right to feel. He has been through a traumatic experience and I have no right to question what he feels he needs in order to heal. Except the wolf is whining with the need to comfort our Mate.

"Why?"

His eyes drop an inch before he visibly forces them back up to mine. "Just...please, Derek."

His tone of voice is almost my undoing. He sounds so broken that it's all I can do to keep from shifting so I can lick him all over.

"You didn't mind in the hospital."

"That was different."

"How so?" My anger is rising again. Only this time, it's at the rejection from my Mate.

"It just was!" He throws his arms up in the air. "Please, Derek." I can see tears gathering in his eyes, and I wonder if he thinks he needs to be strong and not let me see him cry.

"And just where am I supposed to go? Huh, Stiles?" I take one step closer, surprised when he stands his ground, and only lifts his chin more. "This house is full. There isn't a spare bed anywhere!"

"There are several couches and the hammock."

I just blink at him. Thoroughly stunned that he's kicking me out of not only our room but also our house! With a growl that is more from the wolf than me at his refusal to allow us to comfort him, I stalk from the room, slamming the door behind me.

Stomping down the stairs, I mutter the few Old World curses I learned from the elders of the Pack and out the back door, which I also slam. Once on the back porch, I kick off my pants and tuck them under one of the benches before fully shifting.

Jumping off the porch, I hit the ground running. A romp through the woods should cool most of the anger and allow me to corral the wolf once more.

The tiny sliver of the moon is high in the sky by the time I return to the house, panting and happily exhausted from my adventure. I lick my chops, tasting the last of the blood from the rabbit we caught. I haven't eaten anything raw since that squirrel back in November. And now I can add raw rabbit to the list of foods I never want to eat ever again. But the wolf likes the taste of both, and he's demanding we have it more often.

And this is why I need Stiles. When he allows me to touch him, to scent mark him, the wolf is _much_ easier to control. But it's been a full day since he was released from the hospital, and he has been actively avoiding my touch ever since.

Flopping down on the porch still shifted, I close my eyes, telling myself I'll only rest for a few minutes. Can't have anyone catch me naked on the porch.

I must be more tired than I thought because the next thing I know, the sky is lighter, and I can hear people moving around in the kitchen.

Stretching and yawning, I get to my feet and give a hard full body shake. I think about shifting back but decide against it. I often go for runs in wolf form, so it's not like it'll be unusual for them to see me like this. And since I cannot get back into the house on my own like this, I go to the door, scratching and whining to be let in.

Scott opens the door, surprise on his face. "Derek?" I sit down on my haunches and look up at him. He visibly shakes himself before stepping back. "What were you doing out there?"

While I have no doubt they heard the two slammed doors and can figure out what must have happened, I know he has no way of knowing I actually slept on the porch. So I just huff a breath as I walk past him.

"Yeah, I get you went for a run, but why not just shift back? You're not stuck again, are you?"

I look over my shoulder at him and see concern in his eyes, so I shake my head. But of course, the only one who can truly understand me in wolf form is Stiles.

"Oh, no!" Allison cries, coming around the island to kneel in front of me. "Should we call Deaton?" She reaches out and scratches behind my ears.

I grumble in my throat, which Stiles would know means 'that's not necessary'. But again, none of the teens in the kitchen have spent enough time with me in wolf form to understand me. I _could_ shift back, but I really don't want all of them to see me naked.

"He's just pissed I wouldn't let him sleep in our room last night." Stiles' voice is thick with his own anger.

Everyone turns to look at him.

"I thought I heard a door slam," Isaac says, and Lydia shushes him.

I approach where Stiles is standing in the doorway, coming to a stop when he doesn't step aside to let me pass. I cuff, but he just glares down at me, anger coming off him in waves. I'm not sure why he's angry with me when I did what he asked and left him alone last night.

Sitting down on my haunches, I look up at him, tilting my head, silently asking him to let me pass.

"What? Can't fit your fat body through there?" He waves one hand at the tiny space between his leg and the frame of the door.

I lower my head until I'm looking straight ahead and purposefully keep my ears up so no one knows of the mortification flooding my body. Of all the things I thought he'd do in anger, this isn't even on the list. His taking our argument public is not something he'd normally do. Even though I know he's hurt and angry at the world in general and so is lashing out at the nearest target, his words and actions still hurt.

"Stiles!" Lydia scolds. "Let him pass."

From the corner of my eye, I see him settle even more on his heels, his stubbornness causing him to dig in even more. Despite not wanting everyone to see me naked, I consider shifting back and just pushing past him, but before I can, the harsh voice of an Alpha rings out. "Step aside and let him pass, now, Stiles."

Instinct has me rolling over to show Scott my belly, and from my upside-down position, I see Stiles stiffen before obeying his Alpha. As I roll back to my feet, I can see that Stiles hates obeying Scott in this, but he's been around Werewolves enough to know that being Human doesn't exclude him from obeying a direct order from his Alpha.

I want to run up the stairs and hide under the bed, but I've endured enough humiliation for today. And so I walk as normally as I can with my head up and my ears forward. Once out of sight of the Pack, I can't help but let my ears droop along with my head and tail. At the foot of the stairs, I shift back, still fighting the urge to run, but everyone in the kitchen would be able to hear it. As it is, they know I've shifted back by the sound of my footfalls.

Since I can't hide under the bed, I hide in the shower. Spending the whole night running in the woods, along with killing that rabbit, has left me in need of a thorough cleansing. When the water runs cold, I exit the shower and make a decision that is probably the stupidest one I've ever made since the last time I decided to run. Only difference is this time, I'm not leaving town, just moving back to my loft since it is currently unoccupied.

Decision made, I get dressed and pack enough clothes for a week before heading downstairs.

Dropping my bag by the front door, I follow my nose to the kitchen, where I find everyone, except Stiles, sitting at the table. The looks on their faces tell me they were talking about our fight but stopped when they thought I might hear them.

"Where's Stiles?"

"I think he went into your office," Boyd says, earning himself an elbow in the ribs from Erica.

I nod and lock eyes with Scott. "Thanks for this morning. I don't know what he'd have done had I tried to pass."

He nods. "You two have some shit to work out." I sigh and nod again. "You going somewhere?" He indicates the fact that I'm wearing my jacket.

"Yeah. I can't stay here. Not with him refusing to let me comfort him."

"So you're just gonna run again?" I didn't even hear Stiles come up behind me.

I turn to face him and find that there's fear and pain in his amber colored eyes instead of the anger from earlier. "Stiles."

"Really, Derek?"

I close my eyes because this is yet another conversation I do not want to have in front of the Pack. Before I can even form a reply, though, a gentle tugging on the lapel of my jacket has me opening my eyes to frown at Stiles. He frowns back and tugs harder, leading me from the room and into my office. Shutting the door behind us, I can only hope the Weres in the house will allow us this privacy and tune us out.

"Why, Derek?" Tears are gathering in his eyes.

"I can't be here and not comfort you, Stiles. The wolf is constantly whining and pacing. Please don't make me stay without being allowed to touch you."

His mouth opens and closes as he struggles to reply.

Finally, he finds his words again. "For how long?"

"Don't know. At least a week because that's all I packed for."

He nods, and one tear slips down his cheek. "I need you."

I want to object, throw how he hasn't even let me so much as breathe in his direction since being discharged from the hospital, at him. But instead, I say, "I'm not going far. Just to the loft. It's currently empty." He nods again, his eyes firmly locked somewhere in the general area of my chin. "I'm just one call away, Stiles. Promise."

He swallows and meets my eyes again. "You'll pick up when I call? Respond right away when I text? Regardless of the time?"

I nod. "Day or night. I'll only take as long as needed to answer the phone or type my reply. Unless I'm driving. Then I'll respond to a text with a phone call."

One corner of his mouth twitches. "Every time?"

"Every time."

"Can you be patient with me?"

I close my eyes to the anguish in his. When I open them, he's blurry from the tears swimming in them. "I may not know what happened to you, but I know it was traumatic. I can be as patient as you need me to be."

He drops his head, and his scent is suddenly flooded with the stench of sadness and fear. I want nothing more than to wrap my arms around him and shield him from all the evil in the world. This is yet another reason I denied my feelings for so long. What happened to him in November, and again last month, is all my fault. Parrish wouldn't tell me exactly why the woman and her companion did this, just that she was ranting about it all being my fault; that I ruined her life, so she was going to ruin mine.

"Stiles." He tilts his head to the side, telling me that he's listening. "Can I have a kiss before I go?"

He takes and releases a deep breath. Then slowly raising his head, he runs the tip of his nose up and across my cheek until it bumps against mine. He then presses his closed lips against mine.

Staring into his eyes, I press my lips against his cool, dry, and slightly chapped ones. I fist my hands to keep from grabbing him and pulling him closer.

With a soft moan, his eyes flutter closed as he sways closer, and the wolf whimpers at my restraint. But Stiles needs me to let him take the lead here, and so I stay as still as I can and let him press his lips against mine.

Far too soon, he pulls back slowly as if reluctant to do so. A tug on my jacket has me realizing that he never let go of it. He uses it now to pull me slightly closer so he can rest his forehead against mine and stare into my eyes.

As we stand there, sharing our breath, I try and figure out what he's thinking. But the connection we once shared has been shattered by that bitch and the asshole that followed her.

With a move I don't even see coming, he brushes another kiss to my lips before stepping back. "I do still love you, Derek."

I had been hoping his experience hadn't destroyed his love for me, so it feels great to hear him say it. "I love you, too, Stiles."

"Every time," he says, stepping back even more and letting me exit the room.

"Every time," I reply, walking to the front door, picking up my bag, and leaving the man I love behind.

I haven't gone two steps out the door when my phone rings with Stiles' ringtone. With a soft smile, I answer with, "Every time."

 _"Just needed to check."_ I can hear the strain in his voice.

We haven't been apart like this - willingly - since I first fucked him, so I understand how hard this is on him. Even though he's taking his anger out on me because he knows I'll take it, he never thought I'd leave. And now he thinks I'm abandoning him.

"Whatever you need, Stiles. I will follow your lead in this. You tell me what you need and I will do everything within my power to give it to you. Promise."

_"Just...love me."_

"That I can do." I slide behind the wheel of the Camaro and start it. "Always and every time."

_"If I need you to come back?"_

"Do you?" I know he doesn't, not yet, but I have to ask. His soft sigh is my answer. "I'm here for you, Stiles. When you're ready for me to come home, I will. I promise."

_"Okay."_

"I have to go, now. But I will be back."

_"I trust you."_

"Good. Love you." I end the call after hearing him mumble his reply.

My sleep cycle is thrown off track by Stiles testing my promise. He calls and texts multiple times a day, with the texts coming every few minutes and the calls every couple of hours. But I keep my promise and answer each and every one. I've gotten to where I even take my phone into the bathroom with me so I can answer during my shower.

Most of his texts don't require an actual response, so I usually reply with how much I love and miss him or with some tidbit from some show I just watched or even something that happened that day.

Until late in the evening of the third day. I had just fallen asleep when my phone beeps with a text alert. My exhaustion is totally what I blame for my response to him saying he misses my face. That and the fact that I'm horny as fuck and haven't been able to get off for way too long.

Without thinking, I type how much I miss fucking him. But more than that, I go into vivid detail of how I want to fuck him into next week. As soon as I press send, I instantly regret it. He's not ready to be reminded that I'm a randy bastard who had become used to being able to fuck him almost whenever I wanted.

I stare down at my phone in horror, not even wondering what his response will be, especially when the typing dots appear and disappear a couple of times without a text appearing.

"C'mon, Stiles! Don't let that one slip be what pushes you away. Tell me I went too far. Tell me that my comments were inappropriate for the current situation. Tell me to jerk myself off! I don't fucking care! Just reply, please!"

I press the phone to my forehead, silently begging him to respond, to let me know that I didn't just totally fuck up.

The wolf cannot sit still any longer, so I jump off the bed and begin pacing, my phone clutched in my hand. I text after about ten minutes, apologizing, blaming it on exhaustion. I even try calling, but it goes to voice mail after ten rings, not sure if that means he has the ringer off or if he's ignoring my call. Not that it matters. The fact that I'm not able to talk to him, to explain, has the wolf howling in pain as if Stiles has broken things off with us.

After three hours, his ringtone finally blares from my phone. I answer before the first ring even finishes. "Oh, my God, Stiles! I am so fucking-"

He doesn't let me finish, just cuts me off with a softly spoken, _"I tried, Derek."_

I pull the phone from my ear to frown at it. "Tried, what?"

Still whispering, he answers, _"To jerk off."_

I have to bite my lip to keep the surprised laugh from escaping. "What?"

He sighs, his frustration at everything heavy in the sound. _"Your text. It reminded me of how much I love the feel of your dick inside me, the weight of you pressing me into the fucking mattress, the scent of you as you work up a sweat while claiming my ass. I haven't felt even an inkling of arousal since…_ Before _."_

"So you thought…?"

_"No. Your words made me think of the last time we fucked and I got hard. So I tried."_

"Okay. What happened?"

His growl is wolf enough to have mine sitting down and whining low in his throat to be with our Mate again. _"Nothing. Three fucking hours and all I got to show for it is a sore dick! I swear, I lost a layer of skin trying to get off."_

"Did you use lotion?" I mean, that's jerking off one-oh-one.

 _"I did! And still nothing! I'm broken, Derek."_ That last is said in a voice so full of frustration it's all I can do to not rush over to his side.

"You're not broken, Stiles. What you _are_ is recovering from a traumatic event. You just need to be patient. I'm sure that the fact that you got aroused while thinking of us fucking is a very good sign."

_"Yeah?"_

"Yeah. How can you be broken if you can still get turned on by thoughts of me being buried in your ass?"

_"I see your point. I love you, Derek."_

"I love you, too, Stiles."

_"Come home."_

Pulling the phone from my ear, I swallow the sob that threatens at the broken sound of his plea. "Do you truly need me to?" I press the phone so hard against my ear, I'm afraid I might break it.

This time his growl is a much more Human one of utter frustration. _"No."_ Well, at least he's being honest.

"It's okay, Stiles." I try to reassure him, but the sound he makes tells me I'm not even remotely successful. "Are you still naked or did you get dressed?"

_"I'm still naked."_

"Okay. Grab the lube, lotion won't work for this." I wait for him to tell me he has the lube. "Good, now coat the fingers of one hand and the palm of the other."

_"I'll have to put you on speaker for that."_

"I understand." I climb back onto the bed, leaning back against the headboard while absently rubbing the fingers of one hand along the ridge of my erection through my pants. Considering what I'm about to have him do, it's a good thing I had the room soundproofed when I had the bathroom redone back in October.

 _"Okay."_ His breathing is starting to get heavier, telling me his arousal is returning.

"Now, start slowly, lightly, gently stroking your cock. It's okay if it takes a minute to get hard. Orgasm isn't the end goal here. Making you feel good is."

 _"Mmm."_ he hums, and I can picture it in my head, even though I've never watched him masturbate.

"Now, begin lightly running your fingers around your hole. Are you doing it, Stiles?" I drop the timber of my voice and hear how it hits him in how his breath stutters.

My chuckle is mostly evil because I _know_ precisely what he looks like right now; his pale skin flushed pink with his arousal, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, head thrown back as he fights his orgasm.

"Pretend I'm sitting behind you, stroking your dick, teasingly rubbing your hole. Maybe kissing your neck, running my fangs over your jaw and the muscles in your neck, down your shoulder." I slip one hand into my sleep pants and take myself in hand. If I'm going to talk him through this, then I'll be damned if I don't participate.

 _"Derek!"_ My name is a warning that he's close.

"Okay, slow it down, loosen your grip until just your fingertips are caressing your length. We're not trying to climax, here, Stiles. Remember that." As I describe how I want him to stroke himself, I put actions to my words on my own erection.

 _"God, Derek! I wish you-"_ he breaks off with a hitched breath.

"Soon, my love, soon," I whisper, my throat tight as I fight the instinct that tells me I need to go to him.

"Better?" I ask a few minutes later when his breathing has slowed almost to normal.

 _"Yeah."_ His tone tells me exactly what he thinks of what I'm doing and promises retribution very soon.

"Okay, let's start again. Slowly tighten your grip and slowly press harder on each circle of your hole."

 _"Der-"_ His breath is once again catching in his throat.

"Okay, now slowly push one finger inside." 

His next inhale is shaky, and the exhale comes after nearly a full minute. I can only imagine what he looks like: one hand slowly stroking his beautiful cock, head tipped back, Adam's apple bobbing as his throat works soundlessly while he slowly pushes one finger into his ass.

"Not too far, now. Just get the tip in there." When he once again starts breathing heavily, I continue. "Now, pull it out and push in again, this time going just that bit further."

 _"Oh, God!"_ His voice sounds completely wrecked already.

"Now add a second finger and scissor them. Get yourself nice and open for me. Can you do that, Stiles? Can you get yourself ready for me to fuck you stupid?"

_"Yes!"_

"Good. Now add another finger. If you need to add more lube, do so."

His whimper is barely audible, and I know he's adding more lube but not liking that he has to stop stroking his dick to do so.

 _"Oh, oh, oh, God! Derek!"_

I can't help but chuckle again. "You do know I've had four fingers in you, right? And my fingers are thicker than yours?"

_"Y-yes."_

A squelching noise tells me he has increased his speed. I start to tell him to slow it back down but realize that I'm really close to my own orgasm, so I just say, "Come, now, Stiles. Let me hear it. Let me hear you howl out your pleasure."

No sooner are the words out of my mouth than a broken howl can be heard over the line, which triggers my own. And my howl joins his as I spill over my hand.

 _"God, Derek."_ His breath is coming in huge gulping pants, and I want nothing more than to go to him right now, to slide home in his ass and fuck him until neither of us can move. _"I love you."_

"I love you, too." Sleep is tugging at me, but I hold it off until I hear his breath even out and I know he's asleep. "Sleep well, my love," I whisper, disconnecting the call before sliding down on the bed and closing my eyes.  
= = = =  
The next morning I wake with the persistent need to return to the manor and Stiles thrumming through me. But I know that Stiles still isn't ready for me to return. And until he is, I cannot let the wolf dictate our actions. My place is most definitely at Stiles' side, but he still needs the space to heal. The Human part of me will know when he's ready for us to return.

That night it takes several hours, but eventually, exhaustion forces my body to sleep. And that's when the dream comes.

It starts like usual. I'm running through the woods in wolf form. I'm not sure if I'm chasing something or being chased, but either way, I'm happy and excited to be in wolf form, running through the woods.

Suddenly, a scream splits the silent air, a very Human and extremely familiar scream. The scream is my name, and it's so full of pain and fear that it raises my hackles and has the wolf snarling and straining with the need to find and defend our Mate.

Only problem is that sounds echo in the woods, and we're having difficulty figuring out which direction it came from; until it comes again.

Like a shot, the wolf takes off at a dead run to the east. We pull up just short of a clearing, making sure we stay hidden in the treeline.

In the center of the clearing is a tree stump about half as big as the Nemeton but still useful as an alter. Stiles is lying supine in the center of the stump. It's obviously a trap, and we circle the clearing looking for a way to trip it without getting caught. Unable to find one, we stand just inside the tree line, staring out at our Mate lying vulnerable on the stump.

Just as I decide that we're going to enter the clearing, shift back to Human, and take Stiles away, a hideous creature that looks a lot like Peter did in his Alpha form appears holding a wicked looking dagger. He holds the dagger high above his head and says, "It's your fault. You broke the curse, and now he must die." I spring from my hiding place, intent on saving the love of my life. Before the dagger makes contact with Stiles' chest, I jerk awake, his name a scream on my lips.

With my heart beating against my ribs like a bird trapped in a cage, I jump from the bed, throw on some clothes, and run from the loft to the car. Driving like the Devil himself is after me, I beg all that is holy that my dream was just that: a dream. That this time it does not come true. That this time the person I love will not die.

Once I arrive at the house, I don't even bother with being quiet; just run through the house until I get to our room. Throwing the door open, I find Stiles sitting on the bed, huddled in on himself, the air heavy with the scent of his tears.

"Stiles?" I find I'm frozen in the doorway.

"You promised!" he cries.

"What?" It takes a moment for my brain to catch up, and once it does, I grind my teeth, anger at myself building. Patting my pockets reveals what I already knew: I left my phone on the bedside table back at the loft.

"You fucking promised!" he screams, launching himself at my head.

I catch him and wrap my arms tight around his body. "Oh, Stiles." Burying my nose in his neck, I take a deep breath. "I'm so sorry, I left my phone by accident."

"You promised," he says again with much less heat than before. 

"I know. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry." The wolf is whimpering at the fear and pain in Stiles' voice. "I'm here now. And I'll never leave again. I swear."

After several minutes, Stiles pushes back, and I let him slip from my arms. He returns to the bed, sitting with his knees drawn up, his arms wrapped around them, and his chin propped on top. "Sleep here?"

I tilt my head as I study his face. "In the bed with you?" He nods, and I begin to slowly strip.

When I'm down to my boxer briefs, he stiffens. "In wolf form?" My eyes narrow at the tone of his voice. 

I can't tell exactly what he's feeling, but I can definitely smell his fear. Surely he doesn't think I'd ever hurt him? Not that it matters, he needs me close, and if he needs me in wolf form, then I'll be in wolf form. With a nod, I tug off my underwear and shift. After a full body shake, I jump up on the foot of the bed and lie down where I can watch him.

He takes a shaky breath before lying down, the toes of one foot buried in the fur of my belly. My wolf is making contented noises at this evidence that Stiles still wants us. With a light lick to his ankle, I tuck my head under his leg and go to sleep.

We fall into a routine over the next couple of months. While I am allowed to sleep in the bed with him, five out of seven nights it's in wolf form. When I'm in my Human form, he sleeps huddled as far from me as he can get and still be in the bed. After the first night of this, I offer to sleep elsewhere because it's obvious he gets very little sleep that way.

He declines my offer, saying he needs to get used to me in the bed again. And over time, he does stop sleeping on the very edge of the mattress. And my nights as a wolf go from five to four to three.  
= = = =  
Six weeks away from graduation, I wake during the night to him thrashing and kicking. It's one of my wolf nights, and my first thought is to shift back to Human, but something tells me not to; to just lie on him, letting him feel my weight.

It's difficult to cover his body with him so deep in the throes of his nightmare, so I just touch my nose to the back of one leg, yelping softly when his foot connects with my shoulder. His body stills for just a second, and I slip under one arm, placing my front paws and head on his chest.

"No!" he sobs, bucking wildly as he tries to dislodge my weight.

I lick at his chin, but his breath just comes out on a sob, and he pushes weakly at my head.

"Get off me! Derek!"

At the sound of my name, I realize just what he's seeing behind his closed eyes, and I pull back, curling against his back when he rolls to his side so that he can feel me, but I'm not holding him down.

"Derek! Please!" The anguish in his voice breaks me.

Pressing closer, I tuck my nose against the back of his neck, licking the sweat slicked skin in an attempt to calm him.

"Please! Derek." The violent thrashing stops, leaving him shaking with the force of his sobs. "No, Derek. Please."

Whimpering low in my throat, I nuzzle the back of his head until his breathing evens out again. Sleep alludes me. I spend the rest of the night thinking about how to help him find his way back to me. Just as the sun begins shinning through the gaps in the blinds, I've decided just what it is he needs from me.


	7. Chapter 7

Stiles is sprawled on his stomach with his face turned away from me. His deep, even breathing tells me he is deeply asleep. I rub one cheek against his shoulder before jumping off the bed, stretching, then shifting back to Human while making my way into the bathroom.

After showering, I return to the bedroom to find Stiles in the exact same position as before. Stepping up to the bed, I brush a gentle kiss to the back of his head, then get dressed and head downstairs.

"Where are you going?" Scott approaches where I'm standing in the open doorway.

"So now I have to ask permission to run personal errands?" I find I can't help the irritation I feel at the demanding tone of his question.

"I never said that."

"Didn't have to. Your tone said it for you." I take a single step closer to where he's standing. "I told Stiles that I wasn't going to run again. And I'm not. See?" I hold my arms out to show I'm empty-handed. "Not a single bag in sight." His eyes flash red, and I know I've gotten real close to overstepping. But fuck if I care. "Stiles is still sleeping. He had a rough night and I have an idea of something that might help. But it's not something I care to discuss with you. Nor is it something I think he's going to particularly like so I need to get it set up first. Once I have everything ready, I'll inform you of my plan. Maybe." I shrug.

"You're starting to piss me off, Hale."

One brow quirks as I fight a smirk. "Ask me if I care, McCall. Go on. Ask."

"Derek!" Lydia is standing about halfway down the staircase. "What's with you today?"

With a bitten off sigh, I step back. "We didn't sleep well last night."

"That doesn't excuse how you just spoke to me." Scott is coming into his Alphaness, and I can tell that he will make an excellent father one day and be a man I will be proud to call my Alpha. But today is not that day.

"Again, at this moment in time, I do. Not. Care." And with that, I march from the house, just barely refraining from slamming the door behind me.

Pulling up to the curb in front of John's house, I sit behind the wheel for several minutes and just breathe in an attempt to get my anger under control. I know that Scott wasn't implying anything with his question, that he was just looking out for a member of his Pack. And yet, his question still hit me the wrong way. Of course, right now, just about everything hits me the wrong way.

Once I feel calmer, I exit the car and head up the walk to the front door. John opens it before I even get up on the porch.

"Derek?" It must be his day off because he's wearing a pair of sweatpants and a tee-shirt that has seen better days.

"Sheriff." I nod my head and come to a stop just outside the door.

His brows climb his forehead. "Are you here to talk to your friend, your boyfriend's father, or the sheriff of Beacon County?"

Dropping my gaze to the wood beneath my feet, I take a centering breath. "My boyfriend's father," I say, looking him in the eye.

He nods and steps back. "In that case, come in."

I enter and follow him into the living room. When he takes a seat in his recliner, I remain standing in the center of the room between the coffee table and the fireplace.

"Is everything okay?" he asks, a frown marring his face. Stiles looks so much like him.

"Stiles had a rough night last night and I think I have a way to help him find his way back to me." John nods encouragingly. "But I need to ask you something first."

Nerves hit, and I begin pacing the room. "I'm sure you haven't noticed but he seems to be hiding from me. He's using the Pack as a kind of buffer. Sure, we're sleeping in the same bed but during the day, he barely lets me near him."

Sticking my thumb in my mouth, I begin chewing on the nail. "Lydia is having him take the high school diploma test soon. If - when - he passes he'll be able to graduate with his class. But what I think he needs will keep him from being able to walk the stage. Is that something you've been looking forward to, watching him walk across the stage?"

John frowns. "I mean, just about every parent wants to see that but if you think he needs to not, I'll defer to your judgment since you know where he's at better than I do."

I nod and resume pacing circles. "I think I need to take him away. There's a campground just over the Oregon border that is a dead zone, no cell service and no WiFi. He would be completely reliant on me. I'm hoping it won't take the full six weeks, but he's just stubborn enough that it might."

"I get it, Derek. I do. Please, do what you think is best. I know he loves you and it hurts to see him so distant from you."

"Good. There's something else, too." Reaching into the pocket of my jacket, I pull out the box I bought way back in January. "I had originally planned to take him away for spring break but…" I can't bring myself to say it. "I'm hoping I can follow through with part of that original plan." Opening the box, I hand it to him.

He takes it and stares down at the ring lying inside. "It's beautiful, Derek. But I gotta ask you something. Do you like him?"

"What?" I stare at him, stunned by his question. "You know I love him."

"Yes, I know you love him." He pauses and chews his lip. "But I learned something while married to his mother. Liking someone and loving them are two completely different things. And you need one to have the other."

It takes a moment, but I think I figure out what he means. "You mean, you can't love someone without also liking them."

"Yes. The two of you didn't have a very good start to your relationship. I know that you two have gotten over that but that doesn't mean you like him."

I huff out a laugh. "Yes, sir. I like him just fine. There are days when I don't, but I always love him."

"And that-" He points his finger at me. "-is how I know the two of you will make it."

When he hands the box back, I can't help but ask, "You're not going to put any conditions on your blessing?"

He shakes his head. "Chris wants Allison and Scott to wait for the ceremony so that she doesn't get sidetracked by thinking about having a baby. Since having one won't interrupt Stiles' college career, I see no reason to make you wait to get hitched. And if I know Lydia, she'll want to have you two married by summer's end since Parrish is a long way from asking her and she can't plan Scott and Allison's just yet."

"Thank you, sir."

"I'll call the school and let the principal know you're coming to speak with him about Stiles not walking at graduation."

"Thank you, again."  
= = = =  
A quick stop at the school to talk to the principal, and I have his approval for Stiles to not walk, and an offer to come to the house to have a small ceremony just for Stiles sometime during the summer.

My next stop is the sporting goods store. Dad used to take me camping and I can remember feeling like we were roughing it because we had to walk down the road to a public bathroom. It was great fun. I just hope Stiles doesn't resent me for taking him away from the Pack.

"May I help you?" An employee approaches where I'm looking over a display of miniature tents.

"Yes. It's been several years since I've gone camping so I need everything."

"Okay." He turns to look over the display. "Will this be just you or will you be going with someone?"

"With someone. If we can get a single two person tent with a removable partition, that'd be great."

"Absolutely." He picks up one that is slightly larger than the one Dad and I used. "This is our most popular one. The partition attaches to the ceiling and floor with a series of snaps. Makes it very easy to put up and take down."

"Perfect."

"Do you want a full size air mattress or two singles?"

"Full size. But two separate sleeping bags."

"Got it." He leads me over the air mattresses, where I pick out one that looks the most comfortable. After I pick out two sleeping bags, he leads me over to the camping stoves. "What about a stove?"

"The campgrounds we're going to has a grill like at public parks. It also has a snack bar near the entrance."

"Ah. You're not going to camp out on a hiking trail."

"No. My friend isn't into roughing it that much."

"No shame in that. I started out in grounds like that then slowly worked my way up to completely roughing it. But it's not for everyone."

"I think this is all I need. If there's anything else, I can always buy it on the way or even once we get there."

"Sure." He rings me up, and then I'm on my way back to the house where I transfer everything from the car to the SUV before going in search of Stiles.

I find him in my office on his laptop. "Hey."

"Hey." He doesn't even look up.

"Whatcha doin'?"

"Lydia's having me take the diploma test."

"Wasn't aware it was today."

"Yeah. If I pass, I don't have to take classes anymore."

"You about done?"

He frowns up at me. "Why?"

"I thought we could get away. Just the two of us."

Panic flares to life in his eyes. "Why?"

"Because I miss you, Stiles. I want to spend time with you. Just you. Is that too much to ask?"

He drops his gaze back to the keyboard of the laptop. "It just might be."

"Stiles."

"You promised to give me time, Derek."

"I did. And I have. But after-" I stop and sigh. Stiles says he never remembers his nightmares, and since he didn't wake after this one, he might not even be aware he had one.

"After what?" He meets my gaze again.

"You had a rough night, last night. I think you need to get away for a while."

"How long?"

I shrug. "However long it takes. I already got your father's approval."

His gaze darts all over the room, and I know he's trying to find a way to get out of going away with me. "I don't know, Derek."

"Finish your test, Stiles. We'll discuss this further once you're done." I raise my brows in silent question of when that will be.

"Twenty minutes."

I nod and continue on into the kitchen, where I find Lydia sitting in the reading nook with a copy of _The Little Prince_ , in the original French.

"I need your help, Lydia."

"I'm not going to force him to go away with you."

"Why not?"

She looks at me over the top of the book. "Because he's not ready for that."

"Bullshit. He's hiding behind the Pack and you know it. I don't know why y'all are letting him get away with it."

She puts the book down and stands up. "We're letting him do what he needs to do to heal, Derek. Why can't you do the same?"

I step closer and try to remember that she loves him, too. "You know very well that he's hiding from _me_. For whatever reason, he's decided that he needs to when what he actually needs is to let me in. To let me comfort him. To let me help him find his way through this. He's my Mate, Lydia. Just like you're Parrish's. How would you like it if the rest of the Pack was helping him avoid being alone with you after he went through something traumatic?"

"Why are you forcing this?"

I pull the ring from my pocket and show it to her. "That's why."

"Oh, Derek." She plops back down on the bench. "How long have you had this?"

"Since that day." She hands it back, and when she meets my eyes, I see tears gathering. "Originally, I had planned to take him away for spring break." I shrug. "Plans change. I _need_ him to come back to me, Lydia."

She nods. "Okay. Go pack. He'll be ready when you are."

"Thank you." I lean over and kiss her cheek. "You're a good friend."

I take my time packing a bag for each of us. I decide to pack for two weeks; the website says there's an onsite laundry facility, and the nearest town is only a ten-minute drive away.

Back downstairs, I hear Stiles arguing with Lydia. _"-don't want to, Lyds!"_ Oh, how my heart hurts hearing him say he doesn't want to go away with me.

_"Please, Stiles. He has your best interest at heart."_

_"How do you know? How do you know he isn't just trying to get me alone so he can fuck me?"_

I step into the doorway and watch his cheeks turn red. "Because that's not the intimacy I'm currently looking for. Besides, if that's all I wanted, I could do that here."

Lydia steps closer to him and whispers in his ear. I decide to be polite and not listen in. He looks up sharply at me before sighing and nodding. "Good. See you when you get home." She pats him on the back while pushing him in my direction.

The drive north is full of a tense silence. Interactions with Stiles have never been this strained. Not even when he considered me his enemy, and I'm not sure what to make of his refusal to rant at me.

"Stiles-" I start, but he talks over me.

"No. We're not doing this, Derek."

I sigh. "Then why did you agree to come? I want us to find our way back to each other and the only way I can see that happening is if you can't hide behind the Pack."

"Lydia asked me to do this for her. She said that if I didn't, I might regret it."

I glance over at his profile. "And yet you refuse to give me a chance."

"I have my reasons, Derek."

"You said you still love me. Were you lying?" I know he wasn't because his heartbeat remained steady when he said it.

"No. I'm just not where you want me to be, is all."

"And you don't want to be?" My heart is beating hard in my chest.

"I don't know anymore, Derek."

"Please give me a chance. Give _us_ a chance."

"I'll think about it."

"Fair enough."  
= = = =  
The sun has almost set when we pull up to the ranger shack at the park entrance. I'm given a map to our site, a tag for the car, and a list of the rules.

As we drive, I make sure to point out the family center where there's a snack bar, a small general store, a game room with a couple of arcade games, and a pool. We also pass one of the many bathroom facilities.

"Wait, we have to shower in a public space?"

"Didn't you use the showers in the locker room at school?"

"Well, yeah, but it wasn't open to just anyone."

"If I remember correctly, there are either doors or curtains at the opening of each cubby. Considering we're gonna be here for a while I hope you'll be able to handle showering 'in the open' just fine. Because I do not plan to share a tent with you if you don't bathe. That's just nasty not to mention cruel and unusual punishment to a Were."

"I guess I can handle it. But how long will we be here?"

"As long as it takes."

"Derek."

"What?" I look at him and find him frowning at me. "What, Stiles?"

"I graduate in six weeks."

"No. You graduate as soon as that test you took today is graded and you're given a passing grade."

"But my graduation ceremony."

"Your dad said he was okay with not seeing you walk. And the principal said we can have a small ceremony just for you later in the summer."

"Who gave you the right to make that decision for me?" I pull into the parking space for our site and turn off the ignition. "Seriously? What if _I_ want to walk? I've studied hard to be second in the class. I deserve to walk with my class."

"And I think we're more important. Especially since not walking across a stage and being handed a piece of paper does not mean you didn't graduate. It's all just a formal ceremony, a ritual signifying that you did everything required of you by the government."

"You didn't graduate from high school, did you?"

"I got my GED the week before my seventeenth birthday."

"Then you don't get it. Don't get how important this _ritual_ is."

"I did graduate from college. And did not even remotely want to walk across a stage. But you're right. I don't get why it's so important. Why you consider it more important than _us_."

"I can't explain it to you." He climbs from the car and around to the back, opening the door. I join him and take the tent and the air mattress.

We get everything set up quickly, but it is nearly full dark by the time we're done.

"Want to go up to the snack bar and see about dinner?" I ask, giving one of the camp chairs a final adjustment.

He shrugs. "I could eat."

I grab a flashlight, and we set off, the distance between us so much greater than the few feet of space.

He gives the menu for the snack bar a quick glance, tells me what he wants, then goes to find us a table. I place our order and when it's ready, join him.

He has his phone out and is frowning at it. "Can you get a signal?" He waves it in the air, trying to get service.

"The camp grounds are a dead zone," a pretty brunette girl about his age approaches. "And there's no WiFi, either." She smiles at him. "I'm Zoe." She holds out her hand. "This is Dena and Connie." She points at her friends, a blonde and a red-head, respectively.

"Hi." He shakes Zoe's hand. "I'm Stiles. He's Derek."

Zoe smiles at me. "Brothers?" She looks at him hopefully.

"No." One of my brows quirks when he doesn't elaborate.

"Oh?" She looks questioningly between us, but I don't feel like explaining, especially since he doesn't seem to want her to know. "Well. We come here every year so if you want, we can show you around tomorrow."

"Yeah, maybe." I've never seen Stiles like this. It's like he's not sure how to act. Almost as if he's no longer sure what we are to each other.

"You're not a prisoner, Stiles."

"But you brought me here for us to spend time alone."

" _Oh_!" Zoe's exclamation says that she knows exactly who we are to each other.

"And so I did. But that doesn't mean we have to spend every second together. We're gonna be here for several weeks. Spend a day being shown around. I can certainly entertain myself."

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Whatever, dude." He turns to face Zoe. "I'd like that. Thanks. Meet you here at say ten?"

"Okay!" She smiles, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes, and I'm sure she had hoped that she could hook up with Stiles while we're here. "Bye!" The three girls wave at us and go back to their table.

"I'm confused, Derek." He resumes eating his hamburger.

"So am I."  
= = = =  
Over the next couple of weeks, we develop a routine. We have breakfast at the snack bar, and Stiles will spend the morning with the three girls we have dubbed The Not Lydias. We usually all have lunch together, then Stiles and I spend the afternoon either sitting and reading in silence at our campsite or playing video games in the tiny arcade, followed by dinner either at the snack bar or in town.

The first Friday night we're at the campground, we go to a movie after dinner. About halfway through the movie, I realize it's our first date. We've been together since October, but this is the first time we've gone out. And how fucked up is that?

At the end of our second week, things come to a head, as they always do. Despite my best effort, things turn nasty, quickly.

"You weren't there! I needed you and you weren't there! You promised to never leave me. What happened, Derek? Huh? Why didn't you come for me?"

"I tried, Stiles."

"Not hard enough." He runs his hands through his hair. "How am I supposed to believe you love me when you left me?"

My jaw clenches as his words hit their mark, and I march to the SUV, ignoring him calling my name. If the little brat wants to push me away, then so be it.

"Derek!" His hand lands on my arm just as I open the back door, and I spin to glare at him.

"What, Stiles? Huh? What the fuck do you want from me?" My voice is soft, even if the words are not. I'm so tired of this passive-aggressive fight we've been in since he was released from the hospital.

He blinks at me, and when he opens his mouth, the words are sharp, and his tone is accusatory. "You want to know what I want? I want answers." He pokes his own chest with a finger and then pokes it into my chest. "You weren't there! I needed you to protect me and you weren't there! You had promised to always be there! Do you know how terrified I was? Do you even care?"

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. The feeling is so real that I actually double over a little and grunt with pain. He obviously has no idea what I went through; what I'm _still_ going through.

"Stiles." My voice breaks on his name, and I watch as he flinches.

There's something in his eyes, something dark and angry, and it calls to the wolf deep inside me, to the part that I used to call the beast. It pulls all the hurt and anger I've buried over my entire life up to the surface, and I don't even think of holding it back. Not now, not ever again. Because it's obvious Stiles is looking for a fight the likes of which we haven't had since those first turbulent months after we first met. No, that's wrong. We have _never_ fought like we're about to because I am done holding back to protect the fragile Human. He has insulted me like he never has before, and he must pay the price for that.

"Do I even care!? How can you fucking ask me that? Of course I do. But right now?" I point an angry finger at the ground. "Now, I'm done!"

I slam the door closed so hard, the SUV rocks. "I don't fucking deserve you. Don't you get that? When you disappeared, I realized that I was all wrong for you; that I should have left you the fuck alone. Why, you might ask? Because everyone I love dies. Or gets hurt."

"Derek." He takes a step back, a fear I haven't seen since those early days in his eyes.

"My father died because of me. Paige died because of me. My _entire family_ died because of me. And then you were kidnapped and tortured _because of me_!" I slap one hand against my chest, feeling my heart break at the look in his eyes.

"I shouldn't have come back when I left in September. Hell, I shouldn't have come back to Beacon Hills when Laura went missing but fuck it, she's my _sister_ and was all the family I had left."

Taking a deep breath, I tell him something I swore that he'd never know. "Discovering that I'm the reason you were hurt just about killed me. When I lost your scent behind the store, I could feel myself getting lost. _That_ is why I called your dad. I knew I'd be of no use in the search."

"Derek." He reaches for me, but I take a quick step back. Now that the dam has broken, there is no stopping the flood.

"Then when he brought me your bloody shirt… I was already in wolf form and the scent…" I pause to take another deep breath, doing my best to calm my ragged breathing. "I ran. I didn't know what else to do, so I ran. I found a little den under some fallen trees deep in a part of the preserve where none of the rest of the Pack had ever been. I was determined to die." I meet his gaze, and the anguish in his eyes just about kills me.

"I didn't leave my den until your father showed me that you had been found and were alive. I was there for over two weeks. No food, hardly any water. I was ready to die. Everyone's lives would be so much better without me. Especially yours."

I swallow the sob I can feel climbing the back of my throat but find myself unable to stop the tears. "You have obviously come to the same conclusion otherwise you would let me comfort you. So I'm done, Stiles. So fucking done! You don't love me? Fine. I'll sleep in the car tonight and we'll pack up in the morning and head back. Then I'll sign the house over to Scott and you'll never see me again."

Before I can blink, Stiles grabs my head and presses his lips to mine. I'm so startled that I don't respond for nearly a minute. It isn't until I see his eyes flutter closed and feel him sag a bit against me that I let myself respond. I close my eyes on a groan of need and wrap one arm around his waist to drag him closer while lifting the other to cradle the back of his head tenderly.

But all too soon, he's pulling back from the kiss. The look in his eyes breaks my heart. It's obvious he wants to tell me what happened while he was held hostage but is afraid of what my reaction will be. And just like that, the anger at his refusal to let me comfort him vanishes. I never knew that yelling at someone could be so cathartic.

Placing one hand on his face, I give him my gentlest smile. "If you want to tell me, I'll listen. If you never want to tell me, I'm okay with that. Trust me, Stiles, there is nothing you can tell me that will make me not love you."

He nods and swallows. "In the tent?" He waves his hand in the direction of the tent.

"Sure." I lead the way, crawling inside before removing my shoes and socks and placing them in the small space between the end of the mattress and the wall of the tent. He follows me in and does the same with his shoes and socks.

Grabbing a pillow, I lay on my back with one arm thrown over my eyes with my hands fisted. I know that I'm going to have trouble keeping the wolf from wanting to bring those bastards back from the dead just so he can rip them to shreds again for hurting our Mate, so I use the pain of my claws digging into my palms to keep him at bay. And not looking at Stiles should help him say what he needs to say without seeing my reaction.

He sighs deeply, and I hear him shifting before one bare foot wiggles under the hem of my shirt so that the toes can curl against my skin. A shuddering breath escapes at this proof that he still finds comfort in touching my body.

Asking, or more accurately _begging_ , the wolf to behave, I wrap one hand around his ankle, feeling the delicate bones shift under his skin with his every movement.

And then he begins to talk, his voice soft and hesitant at first but growing in strength as he goes. His breath hitches in his throat when he gets to the things they did to him, and I bend enough to press a kiss to the top of his foot while keeping my eyes closed. There's no need for him to see the anguish in them because this isn't about me. By the time he's finished, I'm rubbing my thumbs up and down the sole of his foot and biting my lip, trying to stifle my sobs.

It kills me that he went through that. That while I was hiding behind my wolf instead of looking for him, he was violated repeatedly by some sicko for whom death was too good. But Parrish said they didn't leave him any choice, and Stiles just confirmed that.

It's several seconds before I realize he has stopped talking. Slowly, I open my eyes and find him staring at me, his expression unreadable.

"I am so sorry, Stiles." The words are totally inadequate for the situation, but I have no others to offer. "I shouldn't have let my past experiences stop me from looking for you. Hell, I should have gone into that fucking store with you." I swallow thickly and shake my head. "I should have...I should have…" I feel a panic attack coming on, and I know he'll feel obligated to ease me through it. I cannot let that happen because this is so very much not about me. Not by any stretch of the imagination. Despite the break down I had just moments ago.

"No, Derek. I'm sorry you got lost but I'm glad you weren't the one to find me." I raise my head so I can frown at him. He had just admitted he was pissed that I wasn't the one who came for him. "If you had found me, you would have had to kill them and then we'd be having to defend you for self-defense; not to mention it would expose Werewolves to the general public. With Parrish being in his deputy's uniform and using his gun to kill them, it became justified homicide."

He's right. Claiming self-defense is not a guarantee of an acquittal. And the trial would have kept me from being there for him in the hospital. And the exposure of Werewolves would not be a good thing for anyone. "But still…" I try and defend my guilt.

He shakes his head. "No, Derek. You did what you needed to do. You looked for me when you realized I was missing and when you lost my scent, you went to Dad, even if you say it was because you felt yourself getting lost. No more was required of you. Would I have loved it if you had found me that first day? Oh, absolutely. It would have been like a romance novel where the hero saves his love from evil." He chuckles. "The sex we would have had after that would have kept the Pack awake."

I can't help but laugh with him because he's right. If I could have found him that first day, our fucking would have been loud and lasted _hours_.

A reminder of the rest of what I did wrong sobers me quickly. "I hid, Stiles. When your father brought me your shirt-" My breath catches in my throat as I remember John putting the evidence bag to my nose and smelling Stiles and fresh blood. "I just ran."

"And Scott found you and brought you back."

"But not until they had found you. And even then, I stayed shifted." I raise my head to look at him again to make sure he understands. "More than three weeks, Stiles. I stopped eating and drinking for two of those. Deaton was surprised I wasn't non-verbal when I was strong enough to shift back."

He gives me a sad little smile, a tear sliding down each cheek. "So we're both even more fucked up than we were before."

I know he's trying to lighten the mood, but as a joke, it falls flat. "God, Stiles!" I hold one hand out, grateful when he takes it and allows me to pull him down onto me.

"What are we gonna do now, Derek?" His voice is muffled from where he has his face pressed to my neck.

"Try to heal." I bury a kiss in his hair. "We try to heal. And we'll do it together."

He nods his head, his hair tickling. I sigh and run my hands up and down his back, feeling the evidence of what he went through. My wolf is urging me to tell him about my own assault, but I'm holding back because I don't feel that now is the time.

"What is it?" Stiles runs his fingers through my hair, causing the wolf to make contented noises.

Even though I know what he's asking, I decide to play dumb because this is all about him. "I have no idea what you mean."

His breath is warm against my neck when he huffs out a frustrated breath. "I can tell you have something you want to say." I shrug, the movement shifting his head higher on my shoulder. "Derek." With one hand braced on my chest, he pushes back to frown down at me. "I thought the point of this was for us to truly talk to each other. Get everything out in the open."

With a sigh, I roll him off me so I can sit up and face him. "The very last thing I want is to have you think I'm comparing my trauma with yours. I went into mine with my eyes wide fucking open, even if I didn't truly know what I was walking into. You had no choice in yours."

He lowers his head for several seconds before raising it to meet my gaze. "Just because you think that what happened to me is worse, doesn't negate how traumatic your own experience was. And I want to know what happened. I want to know everything about you, Derek, the good, the bad, and the fucking ugly." He reaches out and places one hand over my heart. "Please, Derek, let me in."

The love shining from his eyes is nearly my undoing. As it is, a thick lump has formed in my throat, preventing me from speaking. I nod my head in agreement.

He gives me a gentle smile and lies down exactly as I did when he told me about what happened to him back in January.

I clear my throat and move so that I can press the toes of my foot against the bare skin of his side under his shirt. "To understand what happened with Kate, I need to start with Paige."

He lifts his arm. "I've heard about her."

I shake my head. "You only heard Peter's side of it embellished with some of what I had told him." He nods and puts his arm back over his eyes.

With a deep breath, I begin telling him about Paige, my first sexual experience, my sexual assault by Kate, all of it; every last thing. I even tell him some things that no one knows about, things that happened in New York.

When I'm finished, my throat aches, but I feel a bit lighter. Even though the guilt has increased as I see how everything is connected to what happened to Paige. Every single bad decision I have ever made since I was fifteen has been a direct result of the guilt I will always feel over killing the first person I ever loved.

Tears dripping down my face, I keep my head lowered, not wanting to see the accusation on his; the agony of realizing just who he is in love with.

I sense more than see him move closer, and I can't stop the flinch when his warm palms land on my cheeks.

"None of that is your fault, Derek. All of it, every single fucking second, is because of Kate Argent. You have to forgive yourself." When I refuse to let him lift my head, he presses a kiss to the crown of my head. "I love you, Derek."

"How can you possibly after what I just admitted? I helped that bitch kill my family, my _Pack_."

"You were a child who was seduced by an attractive older woman. You did not have the maturity to truly know what you were getting into."

"That's what Coral says; that I need to forgive myself, that Kate is the only one to blame. But I can't, Stiles. I was so very angry. And I still am. Angry at my dad for not being here, angry at the driver who killed him, angry at Peter and Ennis for making me have to kill Paige, angry at Mom for being more worried about Laura than Coral and me. I'm angry at Kate for lying and saying she could make things better but making it worse instead by killing my family and violating me. I'm also angry at her for making me think our relationship was my idea." I look up at him, surprised at the sadness in his eyes. "But I'm mostly angry at myself for not protecting you," I say that last in a whisper.

"Oh, Derek." Stiles pulls me closer by his grip on my face and presses our lips together. "Please forgive yourself. I have."

I blink at him because just a couple of hours ago, he was standing toe to toe with me, screaming about how I had failed him when he needed me most. "What?"

"I've forgiven myself for telling you to wait outside. If I had let you go in with me, maybe they wouldn't have taken me. Or maybe I'd've been found sooner." He shrugs. "Shoulda, coulda, woulda. Hindsight and all that."

"You don't understand, Stiles."

He climbs into my lap. "Of course I do. You got this mistaken idea that because I'm Human, I can't protect myself. Now granted, in this instance I couldn't, but overall, I can."

I lean my forehead against his. "We're both just all kinds of fucked up, aren't we?"

"But we're together. We can get through anything together."

"If you say so."

"I do." He pulls me closer so he can kiss me again, and just as I begin to pull back, he shifts his weight so that we topple over with him under me.

"Stiles," I pull back to stare down at him. He hasn't let me be over him like this since Before. Of course, we haven't been intimate since Before, either.

He smiles. "It's okay, Derek. I want you here." He tugs on my neck while wrapping his legs around my hips until I lower myself to my elbows. "I miss your weight on me."

"And I miss you under me." I nuzzle under his jaw, getting him to bare his neck to me.

Licking and sucking, I proceed to leave small marks, doing my best to keep the wolf from biting him. As much as I want to, I have never even used my Human teeth during sex except on his nipples, and I know that now would not be the best time to start.

His breath is coming in huge pants, and I can feel his erection, thick and heavy, against my hip. I really want to strip us both naked and slake my thirst in his body. But I hold back. It hasn't been all that long since his ordeal. So I just content myself with kissing his neck and face.

We spend a long time kissing and touching, relearning each other. The wolf begins making contented noises at having our Mate in our arms again.

We eventually end up with him stretched out on top of me with his face tucked into my neck. We end up falling asleep like that, his breath warm against my skin. I have missed his weight pressing me down in the months since his kidnapping.  
= = = =  
A loud crack of thunder jerks us both awake. Stiles begins to tremble in my arms, so I slide my hands up under his shirt to run them lightly up and down his back, feeling the anger build again at the evidence of what that bitch did to him. Pressing a kiss to his temple, I murmur soothing words until he relaxes again.

"Are we safe here?" he asks when the flash of lighting illuminates the inside of the tent.

"Yes."

He hums and tucks his face tighter into the crook of my neck. "Let's stay here forever."

With a chuckle, I ask, "Here in each other's arms, or here in this tent?"

"Yes," he replies with a giggle.

I rub my chin against his hair. "I think I could be okay with that. Although Scott and your dad might not."

I can feel him pouting. "Who cares what Scott thinks?"

"Well, since he's our Alpha, we both should."

He huffs a sigh and leans up on his arms to frown down at me. "He can't force us to be somewhere where we're not happy, can he?"

I raise my brows. "Yes and no."

He rolls his eyes. "Can you be any more cryptic?" My grin is all teeth. "Ha, ha. Fuck you," he says with absolutely no heat and tucks his face in my neck again.

With one hand, I hold his shirt bunched around his shoulders so I can lightly trace the tips of the fingers of the other hand around his scars. He squirms when I get too close to his sides, and eventually, he figures out that some of them are not as accidental as I would have him believe.

"No, Derek," He begs just as I start to dig my fingers deeper into his sides.

When he pulls back, he doesn't look amused like I was hoping. No, he looks terrified. I'm pissed at myself for triggering him with such a simple touch. With my arm around his shoulders, holding him against my chest, it must have felt too much like how he was tied down while that bitch violated him.

"God, Stiles!" I roll away from him and sit up on my knees, keeping my back to him. "I am so fucking sorry." I shake my head. "I didn't even think. You used to love it when I tickled you."

His sigh is very shaky and breaks something in the general region of my heart. "It's okay, Derek. You stopped when I said no. There are probably going to be lots of things from Before that I won't enjoy anymore. But we'll navigate them together."

I nod, still keeping my back turned and my head down.

"Hey." His hand lands on my upper arm, tugging until I turn around. "Derek." He cups my cheek much like I do when I'm kissing him, his thumb pressing gently on my jaw to get me to lift my head. "No harm, no foul," he says when I raise my eyes to his. "I was barely triggered. It's fine."

"It's not!" How can he be soothing me when he's the one that needs all the love and comfort?

"It is." He moves closer and brushes a kiss to my lips. "This will happen. Especially when I'm feeling good. Everyone, myself included, will forget that things are different now. What matters is how we react when I'm triggered. And that people respect my saying no or stop."

I nod, and we lie down again. Only this time, Stiles has his head pillowed on my stomach instead of my chest. I tuck my right hand behind my head and run the fingers of my left hand through his hair. He shifts so that he has his left arm curved over my stomach with his hand under his head and lets his eyes flutter shut. We doze for a while, the thunder preventing us from actually falling back to sleep.

Eventually, I give up on trying to fall back to sleep and, even though his eyes are closed, I know he has, too. "Tell me about your mom." It's something we've never talked about: our deceased family members.

He takes and releases a deep breath and begins speaking without opening his eyes. "She was the best mom. She was so very beautiful and she loved my dad so much. He loved her just as much." He swallows the lump that I can hear building in his throat.

I rub my thumb along his eyebrow. "She was my best friend. When she first started to get sick, I wasn't even aware of it. I was so young. It was like one day she was quoting Star Wars at me and the next she was in the hospital and near death." He rolls to bury his face in my stomach.

I rub the back of his head. "You don't have to continue if you don't want to."

"No, I want to." He pulls away and sits up, wiping tears from his eyes. "She was a ball-buster when she had to be. Some of the deputies who had been around when she was alive, joke that she should have been sheriff because she was so tough."

He chuckles and shakes his head. "Dad is way more lenient than she would have been. He remarked once that I'm lucky I didn't have to go through my teens with her because I probably wouldn't have ever seen the sun."

I sit up and cross my legs, facing him. "Then we probably wouldn't have ever met."

"Probably. But even if we had, you'd never have been able to climb into my room through the window."

"You think she would have known?"

"Oh, absolutely. And probably would have painted it shut."

"You mean I would have had to ask permission to visit you?" I ask, my eyes wide with mock horror.

He laughs. "Yeah. But she would have let us close the door. Dad wouldn't have."

"What do you mean he 'wouldn't have'?" I tilt my head. "He swears that you're still a virgin and will always be one."

His eyes widen. "Do what, now?"

It's my turn to laugh. "Yeah. That night back in November when we talked, he told me that as far as he's concerned, every member of the Pack is still a virgin."

"How does he expect the Pack to have pups?"

I shrug. "Didn't ask. We really only discussed how you and me might have pups. If we want pups, that is."

He nods and surprises me by lying down and pulling me down with him.  
= = = =  
It rains for the next two days, which is a blessing in disguise. The rain forces us to stay in our tent, and since I don't have to resist the pull of the full moon, I can allow it to bring my wolf to the surface. And, as usual, Stiles can't keep his hands off me.

As soon as I'm in my wolf form, he has his hands buried in my fur. "So beautiful," he murmurs, scratching behind my ears.

I'm a melted puddle in no time.

I spend the whole next day in wolf form, even allow him to buckle a collar around my neck and take me for a jog around the campground during a break from the rain.

That night, we sit in our camp chairs in front of the campfire I built, roasting marshmallows.

"Do you want pups, Derek?"

"With you? Definitely."

"Just with me?"

"What?" I pull my stick from the fire and blow out the flame that is my perfectly burnt marshmallow.

"Did you want pups with anyone else?"

Swallowing the toasted gooey treat, I answer truthfully. "I did think about what my pups with Paige would look like. But after I had to kill her, I decided I didn't want to be a father." I shrug. "It didn't seem like something I'd be any good at. But then I met you and, well, you bring out the best in me. Or rather, you make me want to be a better me." I put another marshmallow on my stick and put it in the fire. "What about you?"

"Yeah. I've always wanted pups. Of course, I thought Lydia would be the mother."

"She still can be, ya know."

He shakes his head. "I'd want Cora to be the egg donor for my pup."

"For _our_ pups," I correct him.

He chuckles. "I figured we'd each donate and have the clinic, or rather Deaton, use my sperm on Cora's egg and yours on one of the female members of the Pack. Allison or Malia, maybe."

"You realize that Malia is my cousin, right?"

"Crap. Forgot about that."

"We got time to figure this out. It's not like we're gonna go home and start asking the girls to donate their eggs or to be our surrogate."

"True."

Silence falls between us, and it's easy, just like it used to be. The wolf is so content, knowing that our Mate is happy with us again.

"What is your degree in?" he asks about twenty minutes later.

"What?"

"You said you graduated college. What is your degree?"

"I have a BA in architecture with a minor certificate in English lit."

"I thought your minor had to be related to your major?"

"That usually only applies when the major is a general field."

"Ah. What made you decide on English lit?"

"I love to read. Taught myself at three and would often read the dictionary." He smiles, and I know he's thinking of the day I hid from the Argents and his father in his room. While he tried to convince Danny to help us, I tried to keep busy by reading his dictionary.

"How did I not know this about you?"

I shrug. "You never asked."

"Never really seemed like something we would discuss."

I stretch out my legs and cross my ankles, munching on the raw marshmallows. "What do you plan to do now that you're out of school?"

He copies my posture and holds his hand out for me to drop a couple of marshmallows into. "Law enforcement of some kind. Maybe a criminal justice degree and then maybe go to the sheriff's academy."

"Sounds like a plan to me. Have you mentioned this to your dad?"

"Not yet. I had just started thinking about it before…" He doesn't finish his sentence, but he doesn't need to.

"When we get home you should probably sit down with him and discuss this." I ignore the reason he hasn't discussed this with John yet.

"I want you there, too. My future is your future." He reaches over and trails his fingers down my arm and across my palm until he can link our fingers together. "The one constant for this past year when I think of my future has been you, Derek."

"I'm glad. Especially since just recently I was afraid that I'd never find you again."

"There were times during those two weeks when I wished for death. Not that I wanted to leave you, but I wanted the pain to stop."

We both fall silent again, each lost in our own thoughts. For the rest of our lives, things will be divided into Before and After, and we're going to have to decide when and how often we'll discuss the During. But right now, we've talked about it enough.

"Did you always want to be an architect?"

I furrow my brow while thinking about his question. "I honestly can't remember if I ever wanted to be anything specific while growing up. As the second born, I was raised to be Laura's Second until she Mated and then being the best Beta I could be. I'm sure I wanted to be something but I cannot remember what it might have been." I munch a couple more marshmallows. "What about you?"

"Batman." We share a laugh. "No, seriously. He was a regular guy, insanely rich, but still just a regular guy. He didn't have any superpowers and still kicked ass. And unlike Iron Man, he didn't have a suit of armor to protect him."

"Well, that kinda explains why Erica calls you Batman."

"Oh, that has nothing to do with this." He shakes his head. "She threatened me once with her claws. I made a joke about Catwoman because of them. It was extremely sexist but she doesn't seem to mind since she still calls me Batman."

I bring our linked hands up so I can press a kiss to his knuckles. "What did Lydia say to you to get you to agree to come with me?"

He clears his throat. "Would you believe she threatened me?" I just raise one brow. "No, huh?" He nods his head. "Yeah, didn't think so."

"Stiles," I say when he refuses to look at me.

"Okay! She said that if I gave you a chance, at the end of the six weeks, I might get asked something important and life changing."

"I see." She might as well have told him I was hoping to propose.

"I don't believe her. I mean, we haven't been together long enough for that. Besides, we're already married, in a way, right?"

A relieved chuckle escapes; he has no clue. "Yeah, we are."

"Good." He brings our linked hands to his lips, but instead of kissing my knuckles, he bites them. "Love you, Sourwolf."

"Nope, still not a thing," I scold.

"Yep, so very much a thing," he counters and then has the audacity to wink at me.  
= = = =  
All too soon, the six weeks are almost up. We have spent the past three weeks talking about almost everything. I learn more about him in these conversations than I had in the previous two years we've known each other.

With a start, I realize that I have never had this level of intimacy with anyone ever. Not even Paige. And I must say that it's nice to have someone know me so well.

Our reservation ends the first Sunday in June, and I find I'm not looking forward to going back.

"Do we have to go back?" He tucks his face under my chin in the early hours of Memorial Day. "I know we have less than a week here, but does that mean we have to go back to Beacon Hills?"

"Where would we go?" I pull him closer and inhale his wonderful scent.

His sigh has goosebumps forming on my skin. "Does it matter?"

"I think you're dad might like to see you since it has been six weeks."

He sits up and frowns down at me. "Fine. We'll go home but do we have to stay?"

I prop myself up on my elbows. "What are you saying, Stiles?"

He shrugs. "Nothing bad has happened since we've been here. Maybe all our troubles are because of where we were."

With a chuckle, I lay back down and tug on his wrist to get him to lie on me again. "It'll be okay, Stiles. I haven't felt anything in a while."

"What if that's because we're not in Beacon Hills?"

"We have to go back, Stiles. But we can go wherever you want for college."

"Okay."

I know I told John and Lydia I want to ask him to marry me, but I haven't thought about how I want to do that. The words come to my tongue, but I bite them back. This is most definitely not how I want to ask him. My proposal will be a story he'll want to tell others, including our pups, and it shouldn't be 'we were talking about running away while lying naked in a tent in the Oregon forest'.

Before I can even start to form a plan, his stomach rumbles. "Guess it's time to get up."

"Yeah."

At the family center, there are signs stating that there will be fireworks and a cookout at the swimming area of the lake that evening and a plan begins to form in my brain.  
= = = =  
We hold hands while we walk to the lake. I have my other hand in my pocket with the ring box clutched in my fist. After our conversation the other day, I'm not so sure of his answer. I know he loves me, but I don't know if he's ready to get married. I can only hope he is.

The moment we step out onto the beach, The Not Lydias pounce and drag him away.

"Must be difficult having a boyfriend so much younger than you." A man I've never seen before approaches where I'm standing near the bar waiting for my beer.

"I'm sorry?"

He jerks his head in the direction of where Stiles has been pulled into a game of Frisbee. "I tried dating someone a lot younger than me. Only thing we had in common was the sex."

I frown at him. "Just how old do you think I am?"

He looks me up and down. "Thirties."

I suck on my teeth. "There is only six years between our ages. I'm in my mid-twenties. And we have a lot in common. Certainly more than just sex."

He holds his hands up in the universal sign of surrender. "Sorry, man. Just I've seen him around with my daughter and her friends. For the record, they're all sixteen."

"He's not sixteen." I walk away, leaving my beer behind, before I allow the wolf to punch the man's teeth down his throat.

If I hadn't decided to ask him to marry me during the fireworks, I'd go back to our site. But I don't because I can't think of a better time.

The rest of the evening passes excruciatingly slowly, with Stiles darting between where I'm sitting on the edge of the beach area and where The Not Lydias are holding court near the bandstand.

When the lights are turned off, and the announcement is made that the fireworks are about to start, Stiles tugs me over to a spot some distance away from everyone else. Someone has laid out a blanket and he pulls me down to lie next to him, his head pillowed on my stomach.

My heart starts to pound. I need to time this just right. I don't want to do it too early into the display, but I also don't want to do it after it ends.

About twenty minutes in, I tap his shoulder to get him to sit up. He frowns down at me once he's upright, and it deepens when I roll up to one knee, pulling the ring box from my pocket.

"Stiles, you know I love you. I have for a long time. I know that as my Mate, we're already technically married but I was wondering if you'd make it legal in the Human world, too." Opening the box, I hand it to him.

He stares open-mouthed down at the silver and blue ring in the box, and I have a flashback to when Scott asked Allison to marry him. After a very long moment, he raises his gaze to mine. The bottom of my stomach drops out at the anguished look in his eyes.

When he shakes his head, the wolf begins howling mournfully because he just knows that Stiles is rejecting us.

But before I can even pull back, he launches himself at me. "Of course, I'll marry you."

The sense of relief I feel has me sagging in his embrace. "I was so afraid you were going to say no."

He pulls back. "How could you ever even think I'd say anything other than yes?"

"You said…"

He waves one hand in the air. "Fuck what I said. We had just made up. I also didn't want you to think I was expecting a proposal." I huff a tiny laugh and lean forward to kiss him, but before our lips touch, he puts his left hand in my face. "I think you're forgetting something?"

This time my laugh is genuine. "How silly of me." I take the ring from the box and slip it on his finger, caressing it with my thumb. "I love you."

He leans in and kisses me. "I love you, too."  
= = = =  
The following Sunday finds us headed back to Beacon Hills. He has spent most of the past week staring down at the ring I put on his finger, and now is no different.

"It really is perfect."

"The jeweler said it can be used as your wedding ring or we can add a thinner band."

"Hm." He tilts his head. "Do you want an engagement ring, too?"

"I'm good. Just get me a similar one as my wedding ring."

"I'll think about it."  
= = = =  
We're about an hour from home when he stirs from the light doze he had fallen into. "How long do you think it'll take Lydia to notice?"

"Knowing her, she'll notice right away."

"What do you want to bet?"

I glance at him, and he raises his brows in challenge. "I'll stop flirting with you while in wolf form if she doesn't say anything by the time we all head to bed."

"I'll do my best to keep her from turning our wedding into her wedding if she says something no later than the end of dinner." He holds his hand out for me to shake.

"Oh, no. I refuse to let her take over our wedding. She can help plan it, but it will be what you and I want, not what she thinks would look best."

He frowns at me. "Fine. What do you want?"

"You tell your dad about your thoughts about your future no later than tomorrow."

"Was planning on it. But sure." He holds his hand out again.

Before I wrap my fingers around it, I say, "Neither of us can say anything or do anything to bring the ring to her attention. In fact, don't tell or in any way bring attention to the ring. She has to notice organically."

"Fine." This time, when he holds out his hand, I take it, and we shake to seal our bet.  
= = = =  
The Pack comes out to help unload the car. Lydia stares at us, and I know she's trying to determine if I proposed without asking. A glance at Stiles shows that he's not using his left hand any more than usual, nor is he not using it. He's actually acting normally. And yet, Lydia keeps frowning like she knows something's different but can't quite put her finger on it.

"So it was successful?" Scott follows me into the storage shed in the back where I've decided to keep the camping gear.

"Very." I dust off my hands and turn to face him. "Turns out, he was waiting for me to stop treating him like he was going to break if I raised my voice."

Scott smiles at me. "So he needed you to treat him like you did before."

"Yeah." I shrug. "Our fight had the potential to be huge. In fact, I was ready for us to get real nasty with each other. But he never went there."

"Good." Scott nods. "Lydia told us you had bought him a ring." I know he's trying to get me to tell him if I proposed or not, but per the rules of my bet with Stiles, I can't say anything.

I shrug again. "Yeah, I bought a ring. What about it?"

He makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. "Did you ask him to marry you?"

"Maybe I did. Maybe I didn't. Not ready to answer that, just yet."

"Why?" He narrows his eyes on my face.

"We have a bet to see how long before Lydia demands to know if I asked or not. And one of the rules is we can't answer that question unless it's Lydia that asks."

"I think I just got my answer." He mimes zipping his lips. "I swear I won't say anything. Although it will be very difficult."

"You only have to keep quiet until after dinner."

He glances around to make sure we're still alone. "Congrats, Derek." Then with a slap to my shoulder, he heads back into the house.  
= = = =  
John, Melissa, and Chris join the Pack for dinner. I'm glad John is here because I plan to make our announcement if Lydia doesn't ask about it before dinner is over.

Just as I'm thinking I've lost our bet, Lydia looks at Stiles, who is currently scratching his nose with his left hand, and squeals like someone pinched her.

"Oh, my God! Stiles!" She dives across the table and grabs his wrist to pull his hand down so she can examine the ring I slipped on his finger nearly a week ago. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Why didn't you ask if he asked?"

"What's going on?" Chris frowns down the length of the table at where we're sitting.

Stiles and I share a look, and a bright smile breaks over his face. "Derek asked me to marry him!"

The table erupts into exclamations of congratulations and questions of how I proposed. Melissa stands up, puts two fingers to her lips, and lets out a shrill whistle. "Now, then. Stiles, Derek, would one of you care to tell us the story of the proposal?"

Stiles looks at me again, and I motion for him to go for it. It's more his story, after all.

With a huge grin, he describes how I got on one knee while fireworks exploded overhead and declared my undying love and proclaimed how I want to spend the rest of my life making him as happy as he makes me. I duck my head to hide the eye roll at the embellishment. While I may not have said those words to him, it's obvious he heard them.

"When were you thinking of getting married?" Lydia looks from Stiles to me and back.

"Well, I still need to have my graduation ceremony," he says before frowning. "Speaking of, shouldn't y'all have been at graduation when we got home?"

"When we heard that you weren't going to walk, we decided to not walk, too." Allison smiles gently at him.

"But Lydia was valedictorian." His frown deepens.

Lydia flips her hair over her shoulder. "It didn't mean anything without you there."

Stiles looks around the table at out Pack, our _family_ , and blinks back tears. "You really didn't need to do that, but thank you."  
= = = =  
Two weeks later, the principal and several school board members arrive at the house to perform the private ceremony for the ones that graduated.

"So," Lydia corners me in the kitchen. "I was thinking about your wedding."

I hold up one hand. "Let me stop you right there. You are welcome to help us plan it, but it is mine and Stiles' wedding. Our wishes will be honored. You are not allowed to change anything or try to talk us out of or into something you would prefer."

She takes and releases a deep breath. "I was going to ask if the first of August would work for you. Those of us going to college will have to leave sometime in the middle of the month. Especially those of us going to college out of state."

I mentally berate myself for jumping to conclusions. "If Stiles agrees, it's fine by me. Sorry I snapped."

"Don't be. Stiles has already told me that while my opinion will be taken into consideration, yours and his will hold sway."

"Good." I reach out and pull her into a hug. "I bet you already know what you'd like to see us wear on the day."

"Absolutely. I have a _much_ better fashion sense than either of you."

I laugh and hug her tighter because she's right. And that is the _only_ part of the wedding where we will be going with her choice.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is, the final chapter. All that's left is the epilogue.

A couple of days later, Lydia is waiting for me on the back porch when I return from my run.

"Really glad I decided to not shift for my run today." I drop a kiss on her cheek on my way past her into the house. "What can I do for you, Lydia?"

"Take a shower, get dressed, and meet me at the address I'm going to text you."

Pausing with a glass of water halfway to my mouth, I raise one brow and ask, "Why?"

"We still have a few decisions to make. Well, all of them, actually. So today we're getting them all done. There's the flowers, the cake, the food, and of course what you and Stiles will be wearing."

"Considering the ceremony is going to be held in a clearing not far from here, we don't need flowers. And why do we need a caterer?" 

She huffs and shifts from foot to foot. If I didn't know better, I'd think she was trying to not stomp her foot. "Do you really want the sheriff to grill hamburgers and hot dogs for your wedding dinner?"

I shrug. "It's going to be fairly casual. Just the Pack and a few of our allies. So what's wrong with that?"

The noise she makes in the back of her throat is so very unladylike. "The fact that you asked me that is exactly why." She gives me a look that has me mentally girding my loins. "Just do it, Derek. For Stiles."

"You do realize that he's just as male as I am, right?"

The look she tosses my way says she's questioning my intelligence. "Just do it." And then she's gone.

I finish my drink and head upstairs. Due to the tension that has begun to settle in my shoulders, again, I linger in the shower longer than I probably should. Hoping it's just nerves at my impending nuptials, I dry off and head into the walk-in closet. Never have I had difficulty deciding what to wear, but for some reason, today I do. 

Eventually, I grab a pair of tight dark wash jeans and a maroon v-necked sweater with thumb holes, knowing that Stiles has this thing about thumb holes. I can't explain it, and I don't think I want to. But we haven't had sex since January, and I am kinda hoping he won't be able to resist me today.

Nearly an hour later, I pull into the parking lot of a strip mall with all the businesses we need to visit today, with the florist being our first stop.

"Lydia, I told you, we don't need flowers."

"You need boutonnieres, Derek. And centerpieces for the tables."

Stiles is leaning on a counter across the room, watching a man about my age arrange roses in a large vase. He turns and smiles at me before heading over. "Hey." He brushes a gentle kiss to my lips.

"Hey, yourself."

"Missed you when I got up."

"Sorry. I needed a run."

"Mm. Wake me next time. Maybe I can find another way to get rid of any access energy, hm?"

My eyes cross when his hand brushes against the fly of my jeans when he turns to face Lydia. And the little smirk he throws over his shoulder tells me he did it on purpose.

"It's not nice to tease a hungry wolf," I whisper in his ear, stepping around him to where Lydia is talking to a woman next to a table with four small vases of flowers.

"Miriam, this is Derek." Lydia waves one hand at me. "The other groom."

"Hello." Miriam holds out her hand, and I shake it. "So, Lydia says the wedding is in just a few weeks."

"Yes. So everything will be very simple."

"Of course." She gestures to the arrangements in front of her. "Do you like any of these?"

When I hesitate, Lydia says, "What is your favorite flower?"

"Peony. The pink ones."

"Really?" Stiles reaches out to touch a petal on one of the lilies.

"Yeah. The one thing we _didn't_ talk about."

"Huh. Mine is hibiscus. The pink and white ones."

"Okay, then." Lydia's hand appears in my field of vision as she waves at the flowers. "We'll take arrangements of peonies and hibiscus for the tables in varying size vases, a peony boutonniere for Derek, a peony corsage for Cora, and a hibiscus boutonniere for Stiles and his father." Miriam has a pad and is writing down what Lydia is saying. "Can you handle that?"

"How many centerpieces?"

Lydia taps one finger against her chin. "Ten? I can have a firmer number next week."

"Perfect." Miriam smiles at Stiles and me. "I have never had anyone make their choice so quickly."

"Thank you. It was nice meeting you." We all shake hands and exit the shop.

"Dinner next." Lydia links one arm with one of ours and leads us to the left and down a couple of doors.

"Then cake?" Stiles sounds like a little kid who has been promised a sweet if they behave.

"Yes, Stiles, then cake."

In the restaurant, it goes just as smoothly, and quickly, as in the florist shop. We decide on simple finger foods for the cocktail hour, which Lydia says we must have so that people have something to do while we take pictures. Our guests will have a choice of prime rib or salmon for dinner with green beans and sauteed squash and zucchini and a side salad starter.

By the time we get to the bakery, I'm nearly at the end of my endurance. Stiles notices and decides to make the appointment quick, just like the other two. "We'll take a three tiered chocolate cake with orange custard filling and orange buttercream." He has combined both our favorite flavors. "We'd like it decorated like a forest with little woodland creatures painted on each tier. And for the topper-"

"A black wolf with blue eyes and a red fox-" I take over. "-with black tipped ears and tail, black socks, and a white stripe on the chest with brown eyes." Stiles smiles softly at me. "If you could have the wolf howling and the fox chewing its ear, that'd be great."

"Realistic or cartoonish?"

"Definitely cartoonish."

"Well, this has to be the easiest cake tasting I've ever had," the baker chuckles.

"Oh, and if you could do a five inch round for them to freeze and have on their first anniversary?"

"Absolutely."

"Great, thanks." Then Lydia is ushering us out. "Stiles, take your clothes to your dad's. And you,-" She links her arm with mine again. "-come with me."

"What clothes is Stiles taking to his dad's?" I frown down at her.

"The clothes he's gonna wear on your wedding day. Now, go." She makes shooing motions at Stiles.

Stiles presses a kiss to my lips. "Please endure just a bit longer? If you do as she says, it'll be quick. Promise."

"C'mon, Derek." Lydia tugs on my arm, leading me to the shop on the other side of the florist.

"Miss Lydia!" A middle-aged man about my height approaches with his arms open wide. "Back already?"

"Ronaldo!" Lydia kisses each of his cheeks. "This is the other groom. I told you we'd be back."

"Yes, but you also said you had the flowers, food, and cake to decide on."

"Turns out they both know what they want so there was no need to do a taste test or see samples of flower arrangements."

"Ah, perfecto." He winks at me. "Hopefully this will go just as quickly." He turns and begins walking toward the back of the shop. "If you'll come this way."

He points at a curtain off to the side. "Please try on everything in there. Miss Lydia gave me your size but I have each item in a size smaller and larger just to be sure."

With a nod, I push past the curtain into the small dressing cubicle. Hanging on the hooks attached to the walls are a pair of slacks, a dress shirt, a vest, and several different ties. The pants, shirt, and vest are all in a light blue-gray color, while the ties are in shades of blue, from almost white to sky blue. Pulling off my clothes, I put on the clothes in my exact size, glad when they fit perfectly. I then pick two ties, one that is more gray than blue and the other a shade darker than the rest of the outfit. Holding them both up, I compare them and decide the darker one looks better. I exit the cubicle while tying it around my neck.

"Oh!" Lydia looks me up and down approvingly. "You look even better than I thought you would."

"Thanks?"

She tsks and bats my hands away before untying and retying my tie. "I knew you'd look good, man as pretty as you looks good in just about everything, I just didn't know _how_ good you'd look." She adjusts my collar, then steps back, tilting her head critically. "Hm. What if…?" She steps closer and begins rolling my sleeves up to just below my elbows. "There!" She gives a sharp nod. "Now, go look." She shoos me over toward the three-way mirror.

"Ach, no!" Ronaldo exclaims, staring at my feet.

I wiggle my sock covered toes. "What? We'll be barefoot but I figured it'd be best if I kept my socks on."

"The shoes…" He looks forlornly at the dressing cube.

"We'll still take them. He can wear them whenever he has to wear this outfit. Other than on his wedding day, that is."

"Lydia…"

She raises one brow, and I find myself, again, mentally girding my loins. "Surely you'll need some professional clothes for business meetings."

"Sure," I agree and step up unto the dais so Ronaldo can hem the pants.

"There." Ronaldo sets the last pen and stands. "Please be careful when removing the pants. We will hem them while you change and pay."

Back in the dressing cube, I carefully slip the pants off and pass them through the curtain before changing back into my clothes.

Ten minutes later, I've made yet another significant dent in my credit card balance, and then I'm on my way back home.

"Now all you have to do is wait for your wedding day!" Lydia grins at me from the passenger seat of my car.  
= = = =  
The following weeks drag by. Because of course they do. Isn't that how it always is when you're waiting for something exciting?

The tension in my shoulders doesn't ease. But then again, it doesn't increase either, which leads me to think that it is just nerves over the wedding.

Stiles and I agree to wait to have sex again until our wedding night. My wolf whines pitifully when I agree, but I ignore him. I figure that since I've waited this long, a few more weeks won't matter. We do other things, though, and I finally get to see what he looks like when he masturbates. I also enact the little scene I talked him through all those months ago when I moved out. He is glorious in his orgasm.  
= = = =  
The tension is so bad that I've returned to my habit of standing watch during the night, daring the new evil to show its face.

Unlike before, though, Stiles manages to catch me this time.

"Derek?" he calls softly, his voice rough with sleep.

I glance at him over my shoulder. "Go back to sleep."

"Uh-uh. Not gonna happen." He throws back the covers and comes to stand behind me, his arms wrapped around my waist. "What is it?" He presses a kiss to the back of my right shoulder.

I shrug. "Don't know. There's this tension that showed up around the time Lydia took us to finalize the plans."

"And you broke your promise to tell me, because?"

Heaving a huge sigh, I turn in his arms and press my forehead against his. "Because I'm not sure if it's just nerves over the wedding or something more. And I didn't want you to worry that I've changed my mind."

"We agreed that we'd talk over things like this, Derek." He pulls back to look me in the eye.

I rest my weight on the window sill behind me. "I know, Stiles. But you have to understand that this is hard for me. While my mom and I were close, there were times when I felt like I was an annoyance so I learned to keep things to myself. That's a very difficult habit to break."

He steps closer and takes my face in his hands. "I get it. She was this powerful Alpha and was struggling with raising the next Alpha without her Mate. You and Cora slipped through the cracks more than you should have."

Chewing my lower lip, I nod. "As the only boy, I felt left out a lot. Even though Cora wasn't her main focus, they did have things in common that I never would. Add in the fact that Peter took an unhealthy interest in me after Papa died and it was a recipe for a very lonely childhood."

"Maybe we should do couples therapy. We can do it without mentioning the supernatural, I think."

"Maybe. We got too much on our plates right now, though."

"Mm," he hums, tugging on my hand. "Come back to bed. Our wedding day will be here soon and I won't be able to see you for hours!"

I roll my eyes. "We don't have to follow that stupid tradition, ya know."

He stops walking and gapes at me. "It's not a stupid tradition, Derek. Just think about it. You haven't seen me for roughly twelve hours and then, there I am, entering the clearing from the opposite side from you. Don't you want the excitement of seeing me like that?"

"It's not like you're going to be wearing an elegant gown. Or are you?"

Now it's his turn to roll his eyes. "No, I'll be wearing pants. But still. I want this, Derek. Please?"

How can I say no? It'll make him happy, and isn't that what all this is about, his happiness?"

"Yeah, okay." The smile he gives me is nearly as bright as the sun.  
= = = =  
Two days before the wedding, Cora arrives. While I knew she was pregnant, she wasn't pregnant at Thanksgiving, like she thought, but did become pregnant in February; I haven't seen her since she told me, so her huge belly is a bit of a shock.

"Look at you!" I rest one hand on the upper swell of her extended stomach, smiling when the pup within kicks at it.

She laughs. "I know! Who knew I'd get so big? But Marco loves it. He's always rubbing it and talking to it."

"And he's truly okay with you coming down here?"

She waves one hand. "I'm not due until November. He sent one of his top Betas, though." She points at the intimidating looking man standing on the porch behind her with two suitcases at his feet. "Pablo, this is my brother Derek. Derek, this is Pablo, my guard until I deliver."

"You must hate that!" Cora never did like being coddled, and Marco is very protective of her. Especially since she almost didn't return after she came to Beacon Hills looking for me a couple of years ago.

She rolls her eyes. "You have no idea."  
= = = =  
The rehearsal dinner is full of laughter as Cora tells stories of our childhood, something that not that long ago would have left an ache deep in my heart, and John tells some about Stiles. Scott and Melissa get in on the embarrassing stories, and by the end of the night, Stiles' face is red, but there's affection for the people sitting around the table shinning in his eyes.

After the table is cleared, Melissa shoos Stiles and me away, so I drag him out to the back porch where we curl up in the hammock.

Lydia finds us lazily kissing sometime later. "It's time to go to your dad's, Stiles." She pokes him in the back.

He bats at her hand. "Go 'way." He shifts closer, causing the hammock to sway slightly.

"You're the one who wanted this. So c'mon." She tugs on his arm and manages to pull him away from me.

"Okay, okay." He leans close and kisses me once more. "It's just a few hours. I love you."

"Love you," I say, watching him walk away with Lydia.

I know I should get up and go to my room, but I find I just don't have the energy. So I end up falling asleep in the hammock.

The dream starts the way it always does, but this one feels different.

I'm running through the preserve in wolf form, searching for Stiles. The panic builds in my chest until my heart is pounding loud enough that I'm sure all the animals nearby can hear it.

Eventually, my path is blocked by a ravine. I scramble to a halt, just barely managing to not fall over the side. I see Stiles sitting in a high-backed chair across the expanse, with his arms and legs strapped down and a gag in his mouth. I shift back to Human.

"Stiles! I'm coming for you!"

Tears drip down his face, and he shakes his head. Just as I open my mouth to question him, the Alpha beast appears behind him, that wicked looking knife pressed against Stiles' throat.

The beast grins evilly at me. "You broke the curse. Now you must pay the price!"

I scream just as he begins to pull the dagger across Stiles' skin, but before more than a trickle can be spilled, a sword appears out of nowhere and slices the beast's head clean from his shoulders.

It takes a long few seconds before the body drops from view. I can see a petite woman standing there. She looks just like every female in my family: thick black hair, sharply arched eyebrows, and piercing brown eyes.

"You have done well, Derek." She places one hand on the top of Stiles' head, and his bonds disappear. "I chose the right generation to break my curse. And you chose the perfect Mate for you." A soft smile graces her face. "Go. Love him. Have pups with him. Be happy." And with that, she's gone.

I wake with a start, the hammock swaying wildly, the need to hear Stiles' voice pounding through me. Closing my eyes, I reach for his heartbeat and find it beating slow and steady. He's content, and that goes a long way to calming me. But I still need to speak to him but Lydia took our phones after dinner last night.

Rolling from the hammock, I find Lydia directing the catering staff in setting up the tables.

"I need my phone, please, Lydia."

She turns and looks at me, one brow raised. "No."

I grind my teeth and try to remind myself that she's just honoring Stiles' wishes. "I need to hear his voice. He doesn't have his phone, ya know."

"So hearing his voicemail message will make you feel better?"

"I was going to call Erica and have her ask him questions so I can hear his answer. I don't need to speak to him, just hear his voice."

"You can hear his heart beat even at this distance?"

Swallowing a sigh, I answer truthfully. "Yes."

"And?"

"It's slow and steady. He's calm. Probably still sleeping."

"Then you know he's okay. Go for a run or something. You have about four hours before the ceremony."

"Lydia…" I use my most commanding tone on her.

And of course, it doesn't work. "Stiles wants no contact until you meet in the clearing."

My shoulders sag, and my head drops on my neck. "Fine."

I go upstairs and shift into my wolf form; there are enough people coming and going from the house that I don't have to worry about getting in or out.

"Don't eat anything!" Lydia calls when I go trotting through the back yard. I twitch one ear to let her know I heard her.

Once out of sight of the house, I bolt in the direction of Stiles' house. I need to hear and smell him, and I know that Erica won't let on that I broke Stiles' rule.

But my plans are ruined when I get to the back yard of the Stilinski house. John is standing where his property ends and the preserve begins, his arms crossed over his chest. "Sorry, Derek. He has asked you to not do this."

I sit down and hang my head. Stiles' scent comes to me on the gentle breeze, so I know he's in the house. All I need now is for him to say something, but I have a feeling that he won't until his dad tells him I'm gone.

"Go on home, son. Just a few more hours. Keep listening to his heart beat. And remember that he loves you."

I give a pitiful whimper, something that Stiles is mostly unable to ignore, but it doesn't work on John.

"I said git." He points in the direction I came from. "Go on, now. Git!" He actually stomps one foot.

With one last longing look at the house, I turn and begin to slowly make my way home.  
= = = =  
Scott howls for me to return just as I exit the trees in the front of the house.

"That was not a good idea, man. Stiles is pissed."

I walk dejectedly into the house and upstairs to my room, where I shift back and take a shower. After drying off, I slip on a pair of boxer briefs before flopping down on the bed. I still have about an hour before I have to get ready, and I plan to spend it asleep, if at all possible.

The dream is completely different from every other dream. I'm standing on the edge of a clearing, facing a tree stump where three women are sitting. Two of them look alike and the third looks like Stiles.

"Oh, my darling boy!" The one on my right says.

"Mom." I smile at her. I have missed her so much lately.

"Derek." The one on my left says. "You know who I am?"

"You're Stiles' mother, Claudia."

"Yes." Her smile is sad, and tears well in her eyes. "I'm glad I get to meet you."

"Me, too. I love your son every much."

"I know." She takes a shaky breath. "He loves you so much, too."

"I know."

"We don't have much time, Derek." The one in the middle speaks for the first time, and now that I'm looking at her, I see that she's the woman who killed the Alpha beast in my last dream.

"I know you." I frown at her.

"Yes. I'm sorry that we don't have time for detailed explanations. We've come to let you know that the beast won't bother you any more. With your help, I was able to finally break the curse for good."

"What curse?"

"We don't have time for that." Mom bumps her with her shoulder. "But we do have time to explain what I said to you earlier." My frown deepens. "I made the curse in a moment of desperation. And then let it go too long. Your grandmother had dreams, just like you. Only she chose to ignore them. Until I visited her when Talia was fifteen.

"I figured that after five hundred years, it was time to let the curse go. So I told Mahala to let Talia find a love match."

"And she did," Mom says. "I loved your father with every fiber of my being. And he loved me just as much. That's how I know you could not be evil. You're a pup of true love, Derek. And true love is only ever good."

"We've come to tell you that your children with my son will also be children of true love. True, they won't have both your DNA, but they will still be conceived in love."

"We haven't decided on pups, yet."

"There is no rush, Derek," Mom says.

"Just remember, the true love of a Human is the strongest thing in the world and is a magic of its own," the woman in the middle says. "We have to go now."

I turn to look at Stiles' mother. "Do you have a message for Stiles?"

"I'm afraid you won't remember this one, Derek," Mom says.

"Why?"

The woman in the middle answers me with, "Because you don't need to. Not for a while, yet." Mom and Claudia each blow me a kiss, and then all three of them are gone.

I wake to Cora shaking my shoulder. "Why'd you call for Mom?"

I frown as I feel the dream slip from my grasp. "I think I dreamt of her?" Shaking my head, I stand up and begin getting dressed. 

Twenty minutes later, Cora and I are standing in the trees on the west side of the clearing. All of our friends are milling about, talking and laughing while waiting for the ceremony to begin.

"Are you sure about this, big bro?" Cora adjusts my tie for the hundredth time.

"Yes." I take her hands in my, stilling them before she can make a mess of the knot. "But I'm not the one who is nervous. Why is that, little sister?"

"I never expected to stand with you during your Mating ceremony. That would have been Laura's role as your Alpha. Speaking of, why isn't Scott standing with you?"

"How could he stand with us both? He agreed that we should have a blood relative stand with us." She nods. "Relax, Coral. All you have to do is stand there, put my hand in Stiles' when Deaton says to, and then hand over the ring when it's time."

Panic fills her eyes. "The ring!" She frantically pats her pockets, sighing when she finds it on a chain around her neck. "Good thinking on Lydia's part."

"Of course. Lydia thinks of everything and she knew that your pregnancy brain would have you forgetting it."

Just then, the wind shifts and blows in from the east, carrying with it Stiles' scent. I take a deep breath, any remaining tension instantly draining.

"He's here, isn't he?"

"Yeah. And he's happy and excited." I expected him to be chattering a mile a minute, but he's silent. He's taking this no contact thing to heart.

"Okay, it's almost time, now." I can hear Lydia, and I know she pitched her voice so that I can hear her from where she's probably standing next to Stiles. "On the count of three. One. Two. Three. Go, now!"

With Cora on my right, I step into the clearing at the same moment Stiles and John do. He's wearing the same thing as me, just in a lighter shade of blue-gray. We come to a stop an arm's length apart in the center of the clearing. 

"Hi," Stiles whispers, ducking his head, a blush staining his cheek.

"Hi." I keep my tone as soft as his. "You look amazing."

He glances up through his lashes, and my dick twitches in my pants. "So do you."

Deaton clears his throat. "Are you two finished?" Everyone laughs. "Welcome honored guests. We are here to celebrate with Derek and Mieczysław-" I raise one brow at Stiles when Deaton pronounces his name correctly. Stiles just shrugs. "-as they join together into marriage.

"Please place their right hands together." Cora lifts my right hand and places it in Stiles' when John holds it out. "Centuries ago, when people were more spread out across the world, if a couple wanted to marry, they would stand on opposite sides of a wall with a hole in it. They would join hands through the hole, the leader of the village would speak words, and the couple would have a year and a day to decide if they wanted to be married.

"Eventually, the wall was removed, and the couple's wrists were tied with a strip of cloth, usually the tartan of the clan." He wraps a strip of plaid cloth around our joined hands. "This is where the term 'tying the knot' comes from and was a little more permanent. Today, we use it to honor the old ways when Werewolves had to hide and couldn't marry in the Human way.

"Derek and Mieczysław have decided to say their own vows." Deaton turns to me. "Derek, you go first."

Cora removes the thin silver band I got to go with the blue lapis lazuli with meteorite inlays ring set in titanium that I proposed to him with from the chain around her neck. I slip it on Stiles' finger and begin to say what is in my heart.

"Stiles, I'm sure you've noticed that when I talk about loving you, I don't say I fell in love. Well, it's because I didn't. It feels like I made a conscious decision to love you, to _be_ in love with you. Even though I didn't, not really. It does feel like I have always loved you. And maybe I have but just didn't know it. When we met, I was still so very pissed at the world for taking my family even though I knew that's not who I should be angry with. Very quickly, I came to realize that you were a balm to my soul. You calmed the anger, soothed the hurt, taught me to love again. You showed me that the world isn't such a bad place and that even in the bad times, there is always something to celebrate, always a reason to laugh. 

"You are my anchor in a chaotic world. I am madly, deeply, outrageously I love with you and I can't wait to share my life with you. You are my life, my heart, the very breath in my lungs. Please don't ever go somewhere I cannot follow. For you are the first person to ever see all my scars and chose to love me anyway."

Stiles reaches up once I let go of his hand and wipes a tear away with his thumb. He smiles at me, his eyes full of tears, and mouths, 'I love you'.

"Mieczysław, it's your turn."

John hands Stiles a blue lapis lazuli ring set in platinum that he slips on my finger.

"Derek, the love I have for you is a love that knows no bounds. In times of joy as well as sadness, in sickness, and in health, I will love you as my equal and protect you above all else. I will share with you my truest feelings, and when you speak, I will listen. I will catch you when you fall. And when you soar, I'll help you reach your greatest heights. I am now, and will always be, your loving husband.

"You are my anchor in a chaotic world. I am madly, deeply, outrageously I love with you and I cannot wait to share my life with you. You are my life, my heart, the very breath in my lungs. Please don't ever go somewhere I cannot follow. For you are the first person to ever see all my scars and chose to love me anyway."

When he lets go of my hand, I wipe a tear from his face. With a soft smile of my own, I mouth, 'I love you'.

"It is my pleasure to pronounce you married. You may kiss to seal your vows."

With our left hands wrapped around our necks, we lean in and press our lips together. "Oh, c'mon! You can do better than that!" Scott heckles.

Stiles and I share a look and then deepen the kiss. It goes on for several long moments until John coughs. "Parent present!" he calls loudly.

"And little sister!" Cora thumps one fist against my back.

Stiles and I pull apart with a laugh.  
= = = =  
The day has been beyond perfect. There have been lots of laughter and good food with family and friends.

Every time I make eye contact with Stiles, arousal spikes deep in my gut. He's my husband now; we're married, connected for now and always. Not that we weren't before, but now it's legal. Now I can call him my husband and have Humans acknowledge that he's mine and I'm his.

All I want to do now that the sun is setting is to take Stiles somewhere we can be alone. Our room is my first choice, but people can find us there, so I grab his hand and begin pulling him toward the treeline - my destination, a place that holds a special place in my life.

"Derek?" he asks, confusion thickening his tone. "Where we going?"

The fact that he doesn't stop walking or try to pull his hand from mine shows just how much he trusts me and has my heart skipping a beat at this proof of how far we've come from just a year ago.

After several minutes, I come to a stop at the base of a large tree that was fully mature when I was eight (which is why it was picked to hold my treehouse) and pull him around to face me. "I have wanted to get you alone all fucking day." I lean in and kiss him. "But first Lydia insisted we keep that stupid tradition and then we had all our guests. But now…" I grin at him and chuckle slightly at the faint blush that stains his cheeks pink.

"And we have a perfectly acceptable room back in the house." He flicks his head in the direction we just came from.

"And a house full of guests who know how to track us down there."

He ducks his head as his blush deepens. "Fair enough." He looks up at me through his lashes. "But why here?" Instead of answering, I lift his chin with a finger and watch the amazement dawn in his eyes. "A treehouse?"

"A treehouse." I raise my gaze to the spot in the middle of the tree where my dad and I nailed a bunch of boards. "My dad and I built it when I was eight. He knew I needed space from my sisters and since we shared a room, I wasn't going to find it in the house. Cora knows about it but I doubt she'll come looking for us." I return my gaze to his face. "And since we've had dinner, cut the cake, and did the first dance, I don't think Lydia will come looking either."

"Of course you have a fucking treehouse!" His eyes sparkle with mirth, and I just have to lean in and taste his smile.

With a slight push, he gets me to step back. "Well, Mr. Stilinski Hale, are you gonna take me up?"

"Absolutely, Mr. Stilinski Hale." With another chaste kiss, I turn and begin climbing the boards nailed to the trunk of the tree.

When I get to the platform, I sit on the edge and reach a hand out to help him up the last few feet. Then I turn and lie back, holding one arm out in invitation for him to curl against my side. But he surprises me by sitting on the edge like I was just a minute ago and lying back with his head pillowed on my lower abdomen. Bending my right foot, I tuck my right hand under my head and lay my left on his belly. He places his hand on top of mine so that our wedding rings are touching.

Closing my eyes, I smile. I am so thoroughly content with my life; I can barely believe it sometimes. And for the first time in months, my wolf is in complete agreement. Behind my closed eyes, I picture him curled around a bundle of red: a fox. One that has led him on a merry chase and is currently chewing on one of his ears. Who says Wolves and Foxes don't get along?

If you had told me just a year ago that I would be this happy with a Human for a Mate, and _this_ Human in particular, I would have laughed in your face. But the truth is that I wouldn't have it any other way now.

My heart is so full of love for the man wearing my ring and using my stomach for a pillow that it feels like my heart just might burst.

When I think about all the things we've been through this past year alone, not even counting the things that happened in the first six months of our acquaintance, it's no small feat that we're here, now, lying in this tree taking a breather from the high of our wedding/mating ceremony.

"I love you, Derek," Stiles whispers, rubbing his thumb along my fingers.

"I love you, too, Stiles." And I do: for now and for always.


End file.
